Endless Horizon
by the Scarlet Shade
Summary: Without a ship once again, Jack Sparrow borrows the boat of a young noblewoman in a pirate's unending search for treasure. WRITING AND EDITING COMPLETE! If you've read it before, you might want to read it again!
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: Ahoy, matey, and thank ye fer deciding to read me story! Now, there be a few things fer me to be layin' out first. One: I don't claim to be ownin' Pirates of the Caribbean. Nay, Pirates of the Caribbean be the buried treasure that ev'ry fanfic writin' pirate be strivin' fer, but nary many a man achieve. Two: don't be bashin' the fic. Ye can give pointers, but ye bash, an' ye may find yerself wit' one finger less, courtesy o' me good friend Jack Sparrow. An five: please be reviewin' after ye be through readin'. That bein' said, enjoy!

Introduction

Gray clouds blanketed the horizon of Port Royal as a light wind rustled through the trees. It was late afternoon when Jack Sparrow found himself trudging nervously down a familiar road. Visiting Will and Elizabeth was beginning to become a dangerous chore, but not one he was unwilling to perform. He simply had to avoid being seen, which for a pirate was second nature when the time called for it. With no ship to leave upon, he decided instead to wander the streets that he had not yet traveled.

Keeping his head down and his coat wrapped tightly around him, he watched as the houses on either side of him grew more elaborate and the spaces between them more and more expansive. Lifting his head slightly at the collection of voices he heard coming from the manor to his left, he found a handful of men gathered underneath a vine-covered gazebo around a young woman in a blue dress who he assumed was the lady of the manor, and single at that. She tried her best to respond to each witty remark and inquiry the foppish men gave her, but seemed to be growing tired of it fast.

Jack slowed his pace, curious as to what the noblewoman would do next.

The young lady responded to one man's question and, through a bit of subtle strategy, got the men engaged in a conversation with each other. As they chatted, she took a deep breath and, rolling her eyes, turned away as much she could without seeming rude, obviously quite tired of it all.

Fighting the urge to burst in, throw the woman over his shoulder, and carry her off to show her how to _really_ have a good time, he continued down the road, watching her until he could no longer without turning his head.

•••

A torrent of rain poured from the heavens, drenching the port town. Most of the town had closed itself up for the night, only a few taverns still burning the midnight oil. A single lamp burned against the dark backdrop of the mountains, a square of light in the darkness. The window, on the second story of the expansive manor, was open, giving the young woman sitting on the windowsill an excellent view of the storm, yet sheltering her from its fury. It was such a relief to be alone after that hell that she had been forced to endure at the social earlier that day.

"Lady Morgan," Marianne, one of her servants, stepped inside, sheltering her candle with her hand from the breeze coming from the open window. She struggled to get her candle inside the protection of the lantern in her left hand. "Close that window! You're going to catch a deathly cold, sitting out there like that."

"I'm perfectly safe, Marianne." Morgan continued to stare out the window at the rain as it poured down into the sea. Brushing a lock of curly, light chestnut hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, she took a deep breath of warm, salty air and watched the large turquoise waves ornamented with white foam as they crashed into the rocky shore. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"As beautiful as a snake about to strike." Marianne grumbled as she finally managed to place the candle into her lantern.

"Oh stop whining." Morgan sighed, shrugging her white shawl-like blanket further over her thin pink-white nightgown, wrapping it tightly around her shoulders. "I'm glad Father finally decided to fund my voyage. It took him quite a while."

"What with so many fake maps circulating," Marianne set her lantern down on the table beside Morgan's bed, "he had to make sure it was real. He finally got a good map inspector to look it over and deem it worthy to pursue."

"I would've eventually gone anyway," Morgan smirked, "even if it weren't real. It's not the direction, but the voyage, that I'm looking forward to. The map was just an excuse to get things moving." She inhaled again. "The clouds are thinning. The skies will be clear and the sea fresh tomorrow."

"Then there's no way to convince you to stay?" Marianne's expression changed to a concerned frown.

"Not in all the world."

There was a pause. The thunder of the rain against the roof of the house, along with the crashing of the waves against the shore, rang clear in the warm air.

Finally Marianne spoke up. "You love sailing that much?"

"More than anything else." Morgan smiled, glancing over her shoulder to her loyal servant.

Marianne sighed. "Then I won't stop you." She picked up her lantern and walked through the door. She grasped the handle and began to close it when she stopped. "Sleep well mistress. You'll need to be alert for the launch tomorrow."

Morgan looked back out the window as Marianne shut the door behind her. Reaching her hand out the window, she felt the cold downpour with a graceful, swan-like hand. The water felt soothingly cool to her warm fingers. She brought her hand back under the shelter of the windowsill and watched the drops cascade along the contours of her palm. It was then that she noticed a man standing in the streets below her, just behind where she had held her hand. She blinked and moved her hand so she could get a better look at him.

He was tall, absolutely filthy, clad in a large coat that hid most of his build and a tricorn on his head. That was all she could make out in the heavy rain. She realized he was staring straight at her. _Who is that?_

•••

The rain had soaked him through in barely two minutes. Jack Sparrow kept his head low, staring at the muddy, flooded dirt road through Port Royal he was traveling. He knew he had been here before—with nothing to do, he simply walked in circles about the port. As he began to recognize where he was, he noticed a glowing reflection in a rather large puddle in front of him. He blinked and looked up to his left to see the same young lady from that afternoon sitting on the windowsill on the second floor of a large, elegant manor beside him.

She had long, curly chestnut hair that glowed almost pink in the moonlight, cropped at the back of her head. She had fair, pale skin, unmarred by the harsh rays of the sun. Her facial structure was fair, graceful, almost sharp, like a well-sculpted ice statue. She was wearing an elegant pink nightgown, and a white blanket over her shoulders. He found himself staring for quite some time before the girl noticed him and returned his glance. She blinked a few times and almost blushed.

Jack brought up one dirty, drenched hand, touched two fingers to his forehead, then kissed them and sent them her way.

The girl blushed, smiled slightly, and then slipped inside, closing the window behind her.

Smirking, Jack chuckled slightly and continued down the road.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Tis time fer me shpeel again. Aye, though I be a pirate, Pirates of the Caribbean be the one thing this honest buccaneer ne'er be stealin'. I don' be chargin' ye to read me work, so the least ye could do is review. I hope ye be enjoyin'!

Chapter 1

Stepping outside of the manor in her new dress, Morgan stepped into her family's carriage and watched the port draw closer and closer. The carriage finally rolled to a halt at the docks, Walter, her father's most trusted servant, opening the door and helping her out. She looked across the bay, anxiously seeking her ship. Her eyes stopped at a majestic schooner at the end of the port. It was decently sized, built for speed, made of a strong dark wood. The ship had two masts and two lower decks. At the head of the ship was a shimmering golden figurehead of a dragon, its wings spreading out to become the bow of the ship. _The Cloud Treader…_

"Look at that, Walter," she said softly, her eyes never leaving the boat.

"I am, Miss Scarlet," Walter answered simply.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

"Hmm," the servant gave one succinct scoff, "it is the perfect ship for _you_, Miss Scarlet."

Morgan laughed, "that's right—you were a fisherman once, weren't you?"

"And I find such finery a bit superfluous for my tastes." An elbow to the ribs stopped him from protesting further. "It is the perfect ship for _you_, Miss Scarlet."

An eager smile on her face, she set off towards the docks. Approaching the schooner almost in awe, Walter following in tow with both their baggage in his arms, she hardly noticed the stares of the sailors she passed on her way to her ship.

Apparently, the crew had already assembled. A large crowd of rather filthy sailors stood both on the docks and already preparing the ship for launch. Two men stood apart from the crowd, clad in rich-looking coats that resembled those of the British navy. Upon noticing her, the two stepped forward and nodded in military fashion.

"Good morning," said the shorter of the two. He had long blonde hair tied back at the nape of his neck, and was clad in shades of jade green. "You are Mistress Morgan Scarlet, am I correct?"

Morgan nodded slightly. "Yes."

"I am the captain your father hired for this magnificent ship," he motioned behind him, "although I must admit I have no idea in where he came upon the rest of the crew. I am Captain Allen Griffith." He motioned to the man beside him, who had short dark brown hair, and was clad in varying hues of blue. "This is my first mate, Mr. Duncan Miller."

Mr. Miller merely nodded again. "Ma'am."

Morgan motioned to Walter, who was placing their luggage with the rest of the cargo to be loaded on the ship. "This is our butler, Walter Howell. My father asked him to accompany me on the voyage." With introductions over, Morgan returned to a more interesting topic. "What was that again about the crew?" she asked Captain Griffith curiously.

The captain motioned behind him. Morgan looked over his shoulder. Apart from a few men who looked almost decent, which included only what appeared to be a cook, a blind man, and a handful of other men from the market, the rest of the crew looked as if they had been dragged through the storm last night. At first glance she could have sworn she was looking at a crew of _pirates_.

Walter gave another single scoff.

"I see your point." She pulled her parasol down slightly, obscuring their conversation from the rest of the crew. Walter stood apart, watching the crew warily. "You have the map?" Morgan whispered.

Captain Griffith nodded. "Of course."

"Then put it somewhere where they shall never reach it." Morgan lifted her eyebrows slightly. "And we must never speak of it again until we are perfectly sure it is safe."

"Understood." Griffith nodded.

Mr. Miller nodded as well.

"Then perhaps you should introduce me to the rest of the crew." Morgan raised her parasol and walked past the two men, approaching the crowd of rather grimy men.

Walter walked next to her, an intimidating sentinel in black.

"Apparently, most of this crew has already sailed many voyages together," Captain Griffith explained as they continued down the dock, walking amidst the crew.

"Who was their captain?" Morgan asked, curious.

"That would be _me_, missie," came a voice from her right.

Morgan turned to find a figure leaning against a stack of crates. His skin was heavily tanned by constant exposure to the sun, making his brown eyes glow against his copper skin. His clothes looked as though they hadn't been washed in ages, and his hair hung in disheveled strands, beads woven in amidst the tangles. Stepping forward, he bowed his head and took her hand in his.

Morgan's heart leapt as rough, calloused hands gently caressed her smaller, softer ones. He slowly brought her hand up and, eyes fixed on hers, placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

"John Wayne, I believe." Griffith finished, glaring at said crewman.

"Pleasure to make yur acquaintance, luv." Jack stood straight, releasing her hand.

For possibly the first time in her life, Morgan was absolutely stunned, at a loss for words. She simply stood there, color rising to her cheeks.

"Ye can call me Jack, l—," he stopped rather suddenly when he noticed the rather stern look Griffith was shooting at him "—m'lady," he smiled nervously.

"A-a pleasure," Morgan stuttered, grateful to have been able to speak at all. It certainly wasn't the first time a man had done that to her, but Jack had a charm about him that caused her heart to flutter. "I-if you'll excuse me," she smiled nervously and, with a small nod, continued down the dock and up the ramp to board her ship. Captain Griffith and Mr. Miller followed behind her, impassive as ever. Walking to the bow of the ship, where the two officers parted with her to direct the final loading of the ship, she looked out towards the horizon as the crew finished preparing for launch, Walter at her side.

"Morgan!"

Instantly recognizing her father's voice, she ran to the port rail to see her father standing on the dock, waving to her. "Father!"

Her father was still very handsome for his age, with warm brown eyes and short brown hair that was finally starting to grey at the temples. He was wearing his nice red coat and powdered wig today.

"It's beautiful, Father! Thank you so much!" Morgan shouted over the railing to the man in red below her.

"I'm glad you like it!" Her father smiled and waved, cane in his free hand, tapping the wooden floor of the dock. "Be safe!"

"I will!"

"Walter!" he shouted to the butler.

If it was possible, Walter stood even taller. "Yes sir?"

"Take care of her for me, will you?"

"Yes, Mr. Scarlet."

"Rig for launch!" Mr. Miller's voice rang clear over the bustle of the port.

There came a thunder of footsteps against the deck of the ship, shouts rising as the crew moved to ready the ship for launch. Crewmembers ran about, securing sails and tying lines.

"Weigh anchor!"

A series of grunts and groans succeeded Mr. Miller's order as a handful of sailors began to turn the giant wheel that hoisted the anchor from the depths of the port.

Men on the docks below untied the anchor lines and tossed them to the awaiting sailors on board. There was a succession of loud ruffling as the sails were unfurled and tied down.

Feeling butterflies dance in her stomach, she couldn't keep the excited grin from broadening on her face. She was finally on her way. "Good-bye, Father! I'll see you again in a month or two!"

"Until then!" Her father smiled and waved.

There was a loud crash as the man below—who, she didn't know—smashed a bottle of some alcoholic drink against the bow of the ship. The boat creaked a bit as the sails caught the wind, and slowly _the Cloud Treader_ moved out of the docks and towards the open sea.

"Bloody waste of rum…" She heard a familiar voice mumble behind her. She looked over her shoulder to find Jack muttering to himself as he tied off a line. Seeing her still staring at the port as it began to drift away, he smirked. "Take a good look, luv," he smiled, his attention divided between her, the shore, and the line he was tying off. "We ain't comin' back for some time."

Morgan simply smiled. _That's what excites me._

There came a yell from above them. Jack looked up as he finished tying off the line, then tilted his hat to her. "If ye'll excuse me, m'lady." With that he returned to work.

"Pardon me, dearie," came a softer, smoother male voice to her left as a thin, tall man in long black and dark blue clothing, which looked far too hot for this weather, stepped around her to get to a roll of rope.

Curiosity got the better of her. "Aren't you hot in all that?"

"No, ma'am," the man answered, not looking up as he worked at tying a rather intricate knot. "It be thin material."

"Like the garments the sheiks in the Indies wear?"

A chuckle. "Somethin' like that."

It was growing frustrating talking to the man's back. He did not seem to be avoiding conversation with her, and was in no way being rude, but he didn't seem to want to turn around. "Might I have your name?"

"Rackham. Garret Rackham."

"Mr. Rackham, why can't you look at me when I'm talking to you?"

Rackham stood slowly and turned to her, making Morgan instantly regretted berating him. Under his long ruffled black hair was a black piece of cloth, wrapped around his head and resting over his eyes. It was a shame—he was otherwise a very handsome man, and could have gotten any woman he wanted, if he had not lost his eyes.

Noticing her stunned silence, Rackham chuckled and patted her shoulder, obviously not at all offended by her brusqueness. "Don' worry—I get that a lot, Miss Scarlet."

Morgan's eyebrows rose in surprise, once again too stunned to speak.

Rackham chuckled again. "I get that a lot, too." Rope in hand, he turned towards the main mast and touched two fingers to his forehead in a casual salute. "It was nice meeting you, ma'am." He then moved to take the rope wherever it needed to be.

Morgan blinked, her mouth hanging open.

Walter, who still stood beside her, chuckled. "This voyage is beginning to look _very_ promising."

About a half an hour passed, Port Royal long gone from stern, when Mr. Miller motioned for Morgan and Walter to join him and Captain Griffith in his quarters. Upon entering the grandly furnished cabin, Mr. Miller closed the door behind her.

"Thank you for coming, Miss Scarlet," the captain said politely. "Perhaps now we might discuss the relocation of the map?"

"Ah yes, the map," Morgan said, searching the cabin for possible hiding places. "Do you have somewhere secure we might put it? Any locked drawer will do."

Captain Griffith moved to a bookshelf on the far right wall of his quarters, muttering, "They'd be expecting that…" Pulling out a rather large book, he cut a slit in the leather cover with a knife from his pocket. Mr. Miller handed him the folded map, which he had been keeping in his breast pocket, and the captain slipped it inside. "Would this be suitable?"

Morgan stood there for a moment with a bewildered expression on her face. "O-of course," she finally answered.

"Good," Griffith nodded and placed the book back on the shelf. "We shall not speak of this again until we arrive at the island, and only in private. Are we agreed?"

Morgan nodded. "I'll not utter it to another soul."

"Not a word of the map shall pass my lips," Walter said with a slight nod.

"You are free to go," the captain motioned to the door. "It will be evening soon. I am sure you would like to catch one more glimpse of the sea before you retire. I'll have food brought to your quarters."

Morgan nodded and stepped out of the cabin, Walter behind her. Gazing off the starboard rail to the open ocean, she decided to kill some time with a good book, and set off to retrieve one from her quarters.

•••

An hour had passed since launch. Most of the crew had finished their work and were now reclining lazily somewhere on the deck of the ship, while others had moved into their quarters to become familiar with their dwellings for the extent of the voyage.

Jack stood at the helm of the ship, staring across the deck and at the open horizon before him. Miss Scarlet caught his attention at the bow of the ship, seated on a barrel, reading. He immediately noticed Gibbs uncomfortably eyeing Morgan. He smirked and, securing the helm, sauntered over to his shipmate.

Gibbs began mumbling as Jack neared. " 'Tis bad luck—"

"—To 'ave a woman on board." Jack finished. "She's the one who got us this fine ship, mate. So you gonna 'afta live with 'er, savvy?"

Gibbs sighed and nodded. No use arguing with him. "Aye, cap'n."

"Shh!" Jack glanced around him, making sure no one had heard Gibbs, then lowered his voice. "Belay callin' me cap'n. We take the ship when the time comes, savvy?"

Gibbs nodded. "Sorry, cap- er, mate." He walked off towards the stern of the ship.

Taking a deep breath, Jack let it out in a relieved sigh. _That was close…_


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: If this 'umble buccaneer really be ownin' Pirates of the Caribbean, d'ye really think I'd be postin' me story _here_? Nay, I post 'ere 'cuz I don' own it, and 'cuz I like this place; please don' slay me, mods! Please be enjoyin' me work, an' don' forget t' review!

Chapter 2

Jack's eyes fluttered open. The sky was dark, decorated by clouds of brilliant stars and a full moon. He had been assigned to watch the helm as the ship drifted through the night. He lifted his head from the coil of rope he had rested it on, cocking his hat up from atop his face with his thumb. The "Turk's head", or the fancy knot of rope tied around one of the spokes on the wheel, was still on the uppermost spoke, which pointed towards the starlit heavens, thanks to his right foot, which was planted in between the bottom rungs of the wheel. Smirking at the fact that he could keep the ship straight and still get some sleep, much to the surprise and annoyance of the "captain", he was sure, he let his hat fall down on his face again and tried to fall asleep again.

That is, he _tried_. His eyes flew open under the shelter of his hat, remembering seeing something white—besides the sails, which had all been tied up except the fore top and gaff sails—at the bow of the ship. He almost leapt from his rather lazy position, his legs kicking up awkwardly as he struggled to his feet, pulling his hat from his face and quickly standing straight, hands at the helm.

A slender figure stood atop the railing of _the Cloud Treader_, using the jib lines as support as they slowly made their way across the bowsprit.

Kicking two boxes to either side of the bottom spoke of the wheel so it wouldn't make an unexpected turn while he was away, he slowly approached the figure at the bow of the ship.

The moonlight soon gave him enough light to recognize the figure. _Morgan?_ He stepped carefully down the steps, feeling for any weak boards that would creak under his weight and give away his presence. He'd reveal himself when he felt like it. As he grew closer, he found that it was indeed Morgan now standing at the middle of the bowsprit, and wearing nothing but a lacy white chemise, white knee-length drawers, an off-white corset, and stockings. He stopped himself a moment before he whistled an approval.

He had made it up the steps to the bow when he finally felt he should alert her to his company. "Don' you think it's even _slightly_ inappropriate to be standin' on the bowsprit after dark, luv?" Jack smirked.

Morgan reacted much calmer than he expected. That is, she didn't scream and jump off the boat. She _did_, however, gasp and whirl around, luckily having a jib line in her hand to steady her.

"And in yur undergarments?" Jack added, shrugging slightly. "Not that I mind…" he added in a low voice.

Morgan scoffed and rolled her eyes, pretending to be calmer than he could tell she really was. "I hardly think this is the first time you've seen a woman in her undergarments."

Jack chuckled, "Aye, but it's much funner when yer the one takin' 'em—" he suddenly realized he should probably change the direction he was going when Morgan flushed and glared at him, "—out to dry." He mentally smacked himself for such a ridiculous save, but kept going. "Aye, nothin's finer than clean laundry flyin' in the wind like a Jolly—" and it was time for another quick save, "—ol' English flag." He mentally smacked himself again, praying he had kept his cool throughout that absurd story.

Morgan cocked an eyebrow, then shook her head, apparently dismissing him as simply strange. But at least she bought it. _That_ was close.

"But back to _ye_," Jack took the advantage to change the subject, "ye wou'n't want some rowdy, drunk'n sailor teh come up and find he likes what he sees."

"I know for a fact that no rum was distributed tonight." Morgan smirked, the wind pulling a few strands of chestnut hair from the loose bun at the back of her head and whipping them about.

"Dos'n't mean they can't get their hands on it." Jack raised his eyebrows, proving his point.

"Touché," Morgan gave a small laugh, finally starting to relax. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, shrugging. "Then I suppose I'm lucky all I ended up with was _you_."

There was a sudden lurch as the boat hit a large wave, causing her to fly forward towards the deck. Luckily Jack was right there to catch her, grinning devilishly. "Aye, ye be lucky ye got ol' Jack, but methinks not in the way yer expectin'."

Morgan's mouth opened, but no sound came out, her face flushing. Struggling in his arms, she finally managed to free herself and, stammering, "Yes, well…" almost too fast for him to understand, she muttered a quick, "Good night!" and ran to her cabin.

Jack chuckled and, walking back to the stern of the ship and resuming his position, he finally managed to fall asleep, with an amused smile on his face.

•••

It was well past dawn when Morgan awoke, immediately wishing that she could've slept forever, after what had happened last night. She didn't want to face Jack—she just knew he'd rub it in, if even in the slightest. Finally she dragged herself out of bed and had Walter aid her in donning a light green dress.

The entire crew was on deck, up to their normal activities when she stepped on deck. At once, all eyes were on her, their thoughts rather obvious.

Walter cleared his throat, a warning. Morgan rolled her eyes.

There came a small applause from behind her. She turned to see Jack stand up from the barrel he had been seated on. "Luv'ly, luv'ly, luv'ly," he grinned. "Though I must admit, I think I preferred ye in yer undergar—"Morgan's palm cracked across Jack's cheek, stopping him before he could finish and the crew was able to overhear. He pulled his head back with a nervous grin and a shrug. "I deserved that…"

The day was a rather uneventful one. Walter used his old fishing skills to help the crew catch some fresh food, while Morgan helped mend one of the sails. Rackham taught her a few folksongs, while Jack and Gibbs regaled her with sea stories. When evening finally came, she almost regretted having to leave for her cabin. She wished she could continue to consort with the crew, but common sense and Walter would not allow it. Pulling out her diary, she could at least write down all that she had learned. She'd start with a song Rackham had taught her.

"_Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate's life for me!…"_

•••

Jack waited until the sun set, plunging _the Cloud Treader_ into shadows. Pulling his compass from his belt, he flipped open the small box and inspected the rotating disks and arrow. A smile played over his lips.

Gibbs stepped up to his right, glancing from the compass to Jack. "Cap'n?"

"Gather the crew, mate." Jack murmured, snapping the lid of the compass closed. "We're tak'n' the ship."

•••

Morgan's eyes snapped open at a loud crashing noise outside her cabin. Climbing out of her bed, she draped a white shawl over her shoulders against the sudden cold of her quarters. Walter was nowhere to be found. She reached for her candle when there came another crash from outside. She ran to the door to see what was going on, when she heard footsteps approaching from outside.

•••

Gibbs threw open the door to Miss Scarlet's quarters; if she had been sleeping, she certainly wouldn't be anymore. Glancing about the dark cabin, he noticed her lying with her back to him under the covers of her bed. He strode towards the bed, a cocky smirk spreading across his face. "Rise and shine, m'lady." When Miss Scarlet didn't stir, Gibbs reached for the covers. _She's a deep sleeper…_ "You listenin', Miss Scarlet?" He grasped the edge of the covers. "I said _get up_!" He threw the covers back to find, to his bafflement, not a woman, but a pile of pillows. "_Bullocks_!" Whirling around, he found the cabin door wide open.

•••

Brandishing his gun threateningly, Jack gave the captain and his first mate a gold-toothed smile as they were led from their cabin. "Sorry, mates. 'S just such a fine ship, and with the bow pointin' towards treasure, couldn' resist."

Griffith snarled. "And how do you intend to get it without a map? Without the map, you'll get nothing!"

"You mean _this_ map?" Jack pulled the piece of parchment out of his jacket pocket and held it up to the lamplight.

The anger in Griffith's face melted away to an astonished stare.

Jack smirked. "Never und'restimate a pirate, cap'n," his smirk gained a darker tone to it, "er _ex_-cap'n."

Griffith's anger returned, mumbling curses and obscenities under his breath as Jack's men shoved him and Mr. Miller towards the brig.

"Cap'n!" came Gibbs' voice from the bow of the ship.

"How goes it, mate?" Jack inquired as he took his place at the helm, feeling a sense of freedom course through his veins at taking control of the ship. It was as if it was a whole new ship—it was as if it were _the Pearl_.

"I lost 'er!"

That feeling was short-lived.

"_What_?" Leaping down to the lower deck, Jack found Gibbs grumbling to himself, holding a pillow in his hands. Running into Morgan's chambers, clinging to some hope that she might be hiding somewhere, he was greeted with dark, empty silence. "Oh bugger…"

•••

Delicately tiptoeing down the stairs to the lower decks, Morgan kept all senses alert in case anyone decided to try to sneak up on her. As she reached the hold, footsteps and soft curses rose behind her. She quickly hid behind a pile of barrels and boxes, peering back to the door from a gap between two crates.

Two rather dirty men she recognized from the crew forced Captain Griffith and Mr. Miller down the stairs.

_Can't say I'm surprised… _Morgan mentally rolled her eyes._ So they _were_ pirates!_ She felt both anger and fear bubbling up inside of her. Pirates had slipped aboard by impersonating an honest crew and now had the _nerve_ to commandeer her ship.

The men forced Griffith and Miller into the brig, where a few of the non-pirate members of the crew had already been locked away. They shouted all sorts of curses and obscenities at the two pirates as they added the captain and his first mate to their little gathering. One stayed by the cell while the other headed back to the upper deck.

Morgan looked around, trying to find something helpful to do. Amidst the crowd she found Walter, standing still and silent as always. A moment later he noticed her. Standing aloof from the crew, he began motioning with a flicker of his eyes to the keys to the cell at the pirate's belt.

Understanding his message, she nodded purposefully.

Suddenly she realized that the pirate was staring right at her as well. He blinked a few times before it hit him, causing him to jump. "Hey, _you_!"

"Run for it, Miss Scarlet!" Walter shouted urgently.

The pirate leapt forward, reaching to catch her hair, arm, anything that he could grab a hold of to detain her with, but Morgan was already out of his reach. She took off through the hold, tipping over barrels as she went to block the pirate's path. The pirate still managed to catch up and grabbed a hold of her left arm roughly.

"_There_ ye are, little missie," he said in a mocking tone. "We've been lookin' for ye."

Morgan, desperate to get out of the large man's grip, grabbed his wrist with her free hand and bit down hard.

The man screamed in pain and released her to clutch his wounded arm possessively.

Running behind a pile of barrels of fresh water, she squeezed into the space between two and hoped she wouldn't be noticed.

The pirate ran into view, looking for hiding places she might have run to. After about a minute of searching, he gave up with a frustrated groan and stomped off, his grip on his red arm tightening both in anger and pain.

Morgan hugged her knees to her chest, not daring to even sigh in relief. _Too close…_

•••

"Ye sure it was _her_ ye saw down 'ere?" Jack glanced about the hold, noticing the upturned barrels.

"As sure as this 'ere bite on me arm." Harper grumbled.

"A'right." Jack waved him away. "Ye watch the brig. I'll find her."

Harper nodded and headed back towards the jailed crew.

Walking slowly down the path of overturned barrels, Jack looked around for any hint of Morgan's presence. _Come out, come out, wherever ye are…_

•••

Morgan stifled a gasp as Jack walked into view. _Jack too?_ His appearance _did_ verify that discovery, but she had hoped it was just a coincidence. She held back a sniffle as anger began to form beneath betrayed tears. _So be it._

•••

Jack had walked all the way down the hold, to the point where the tipped barrels stopped, far enough from the brig that no one there would be able to see or hear them. He stopped and looked around. She had to be around here somewhere.

Inspecting the dark spaces between barrels, Jack held his breath to listen for any sounds whatsoever. Rapid, labored breathing rose over the silence. It was then that he noticed a single violet eye watching him from a niche between boxes and barrels. He knew those eyes anywhere—no one else he knew had slightly different colored eyes like hers, one brown, one a more violet shade. Acting as if he hadn't seen it, he walked out of her line of vision and pulled his pistol from his belt. Tiptoeing towards the cranny, he waited for a few seconds before he casually moved the nose of his pistol into the niche.

"Come on out, luv."

There was a startled gasp, and then Morgan slowly stood, her head hung low.

"What's wrong, luv?" Jack smiled as innocently as he could make it. "Su'prised to see me?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were a pirate?" She murmured.

Jack blinked. "What?"

Her head snapped up, revealing a startlingly angry glare. "_Why didn't you tell me you were a pirate?_" She stormed past him, not waiting for him to answer.

Bewildered that she could behave so boldly to a man with a gun in his hand, Jack felt she deserved a reply. " 'Cuz then I wouldn't've gotten the job!"

"Exactly!" Morgan snapped back.

Running after her, Jack tried as best he could to redeem himself to her. "Well, would it help if I said it now?" He stopped and, sweeping his arms in a grand gesture, placed his hands proudly on his chest. " 'I, Jack Sparrow, am indeed a pirate'."

Morgan stopped and turned, and incredibly sarcastic look on her face, "Oh, Jack, that's so sweet." She said in a fake sweet voice, which was dropped a moment later. "A lot of good that does!" She stormed away from him again.

Jack, now quite confused, ran after her again. "I thought ye'd appr'ceate it!" Fed up with chasing her, Jack reached forward and grasped her wrist, forcing her to stop and look at him. "A'right, _look_."

Morgan winced as her wrist twisted the wrong way, though she continued to fight his grip despite the pain.

Immediately regretting hurting her, he relaxed his grip slightly and tried to soften his expression. "Look, I'm not gonna lock ye up wit' the rest of the lawful crew, savvy?"

Morgan continued to struggle against his grip, which, even when he loosened it, was still too strong to break free from.

Jack frowned. "I'm not gonna lock ye up, 'cuz I like ye, luv. But I'm takin' ye to yer cabin. Ye can either come peace'bly, or I can drag ye there." Trying to soften his expression as much as possible to try to soothe her, he spoke again, softer. "Yer choice."

•••

Gibbs' head went up at the enraged screams from the hold. He glanced towards the hatch to see Jack carrying a kicking and screaming Miss Scarlet in his arms, a frustrated look on his face as he dodged her flailing fists. Jack walked into the open door of Morgan's quarters, where there were more screams, a sudden yelp and a thud, and a flurry of curses Gibbs never would've expected a proper lady to know. Jack walked quickly out of the cabin and slammed the door behind him, jamming it shut with a broomstick. Then, grumbling to himself, he stormed up to the helm and clutched the spokes of the wheel tightly as if it were someone's neck.

Fearing his captain's wrath, Gibbs quickly headed for the hatch to find some job that needed doing.


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Yarr. I be back with fresh editing teh me story. This be a load of fun to edit—I hope it be as fun to read! Before ye read, need I remind ye that I be not claimin' to own Pirates of the Caribbean. But Morgan, Walter, Rackham, Griffith, Miller, and Morgan's father be mine (and Marianne, but she not be appearin' anymore).

While I be on them, I be tellin' ye who I be thinkin' best resemble me original characters, so ye don' need to imagine too hard. Mr. Scarlet be Dustin Hoffman, Miller be Hugh Jackman like he be in _Kate & Leopold_, Griffith be David Beckham, Rackham be Gackt when he be havin' the long hair, and Walter be Ian McKellen when he be a younger Magneto at the beginning of _X-Men 3_. Morgan be a puzzler. I'll let ye know if I find a lass suitable, but until then, yer imagination be fine. That bein' said, enjoy.

Chapter 3

Morgan woke the next morning sore, cranky, and exhausted. Her face was salty and dry from crying herself to sleep the night before. Dragging herself out of bed, she found it very difficult, but not impossible, to dress herself in a brown gown. She trudged to the door and twisted the handle, but the door didn't budge. She gasped and tried again, soon grasping the handle and tugging at it with all her might. The door still refused to open. Finally giving up, she leaned her back against the door and slowly slid down until she was sitting against it. As she sat silent, she could hear the sounds of a port from behind the door. _A port? Strange… our course shouldn't take us near any ports… unless we changed course…_

There came a knock at the door, making her leap to her feet. A moment later Jack stood in the doorway, holding an apple in his hand. "G'mornin' luv."

Morgan glared at him, feeling her anger rekindle the moment she saw him.

Jack jumped, backing away from her a few steps. He held his hands out in front of him as if they might provide some sort of protection from her glare of death. "S-still a-a-angry, I see…" He stuttered, hesitantly offering her the apple, his trembling hand still too far away for her to reach. "I-I brought ye some food."

Morgan's anger faded slightly—just enough for her to consider accepting his offering.

Jack swallowed loudly and then finally tossed her the apple, still too nervous to approach her.

Catching the green fruit in her hands, she inspected it, trying not to seem hungry, and then looked back at Jack. "Where are we? We shouldn't be near a port, not on _this_ course."

Jack grinned as if he had done something very clever. "Ah, well, there's been a slight change in course."

Morgan took a bite of the apple, forcing herself to maintain her manners and not devour the fruit. "How slight?"

"We're stopping in Tortuga to pick up a few more men," Jack began counting off on his fingers, "restock supplies, drop off any unwilling passengers…" his smirk widened slightly, "…stock up on rum."

Suddenly something clicked in Morgan's brain at the mention of Tortuga. She had heard a name in a story she was told when she was a girl. Jack hadn't mentioned his last name before, and now she knew why. Jack _Sparrow_, captain of_ the Black Pearl._ Her pulse raced, but she forced herself to seem outwardly calm. "Where's _the Pearl_?"

"Figured it out, eh?" Jack chuckled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "She's in fer repairs. That's one'a the things we've also got teh check on."

Morgan blinked, half of her apple already consumed. "_We_?"

"I'll take ye out teh stretch yer legs," Jack motioned to the door, "but only if ye can coop'rate, of course."

•••

Morgan stepped off _the Cloud Treader_, letting out an exasperated sigh and crossing her arms with a frown. Jack followed behind her a moment later and, apparently very happy to be back, inhaled the port air with a grin. "Alright, come on—I'll give ye a tour," he said, setting off down the dock and tugging the rope tied around Morgan's waist behind him.

Trudging down the streets, Morgan fought to keep from plugging her nose. The stench was terrible, like a brewery next to a pigsty. Jack was greeted and slapped by three women—presumably whores. She stood straight and tried to avoid being too close to them. The farther into the town Jack led her, the more she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She feared if Jack took her too far, she would either be taken advantage of by some drunkard or be killed in a brawl.

Luckily the place Jack was leading her to wasn't too far. The pirate pulled her into a nearby tavern and led her to a table where a young woman with copper skin and straight black hair was sitting. Judging by her appearance, she wasn't a whore, which was a bit of a relief, but she _definitely_ was a pirate. Still, Morgan had to admire her—she seemed capable of holding her own even when surrounded by men. For example, the moment she noticed Jack approaching her, the woman frowned and stood at her place.

Jack opened his arms as if to embrace her, although Morgan doubted he'd get so far. "Anna Maria!"

Her palm cracked against Jack's left cheek, snapping his head to the side.

Morgan added one to her mental tally of times Jack had been slapped in the fifteen minutes they had been on shore with a smirk. _That's four…_

"What'd I do now?" Jack said in what she could've sworn was a whine.

"You left me here while you sailed off in a hijacked dingy with what crew you could grab, that's what you did." Anna Maria snapped.

Morgan slipped into an empty chair at the table and waited for them to finish. She wasn't going anywhere, anyway.

"I was going to come back and pick you up, darling." He explained nervously, as if he anticipated another slap, which Morgan did.

"And how was _I_ supposed to know that?" Anna Maria almost shouted, if she hadn't checked herself. "For all I knew, you'd left with a few crewmembers without a trace! I thought you'd gone after some big payroll you'd just discovered and wanted to split it as few ways as possible!"

For a few moments, Jack said nothing, but just stood there, chringing. "Regret'bly, part of that is true."

Crack!

_Five…_ Morgan smirked. _You're on a roll today, Mr. Sparrow…_

"The part about discoverin' a big payroll!" Jack backed up slightly to avoid being slapped again. "Didn't say anythin' about not wantin' to split it wit ye. Why d'ye think I came back?"

"To check on _the Pearl_," she replied tersely.

Jack smiled nervously, backing up another step. "Well … how is she?"

"They're still fixing the giant hole in the bottom, _cap'n_," she spat the last word. Morgan did not doubt that Jack was at least _partially_ responsible for whatever damage had been done to his ship. "They haven't even gotten to putting a new foremast on it yet."

"So it won't be too much longer, eh?" Jack smiled his trademark golden-toothed smile, as if his will alone could make the repairs go faster.

Anna Maria sighed. "It'll be about another week and a half at the rate they're going."

"Good," Jack put his hands on the table and leaned most of his weight on them. "D'ye think ye could do me a favor, luv?"

Giving him a cold look, Anna Maria heaved another heavy sigh. "What?"

"Sail 'er over towards 'ere when she's done." He slid a scrap of paper onto the table. It was almost identical to the map from the bottle, save that it was written on an immaculately clean piece of stationary Jack had probably stolen from the captain's quarters over the last day or so. He tapped his finger on the large island on the top right corner of the map.

A loud crash from the bar caused her to jump, though Jack and Anna Maria hardly seemed to notice. Morgan had been able to distract herself by focusing on the two pirates' conversation, but the moment she dropped her focus, her surroundings crashed in around her. Filthy, drunken men surrounded her, talking loudly to each other as they continued to drink. A handful of men had noticed the noblewoman sitting amidst them and were gawking openly, not bothering to hide their lecherous desires. Her blood began to pound in her ears, sweat beading on her forehead as she tried to shrink in her seat. Two men began to fight, and a brawl broke out. It was all too much—the room was closing in on her, the boisterous sounds of the tavern blurring together into one overwhelming noise. Covering her ears and shutting her eyes, she tried desperately to block it all out.

"Luv, are ye alright?" came Jack's voice above the din, surprisingly gentle as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

Morgan jumped, jolting out of her chair and backing away from him. She just needed somewhere to run, to hide, to escape to. Not paying attention to where she was going, she backed into a crowd of men, bumping into several of them. Having lost track of Jack, who, although complete scum, was still the only pirate in the tavern she trusted, she felt her heart pound even harder. Trying to shrink away from the brawny, filthy drunkards surrounding her, she continued to back away, running right into a wall, where one of the bolder men pinned her against it and tried to make a move. Swinging at him wildly, her nails dug into his cheek, causing him to scream and pull away. The instant she was free, she ran, finding the exit and darting out into the street.

She had no idea where she was running. Vaguely she could hear Jack's voice behind her, yelling after her, but she couldn't stop. She needed to get away from all these pirates and back home where at least people bathed and had manners and didn't kill each other in brawls.

But it was inevitable that he would catch up with her. There came a sharp yank on the rope around her waist as Jack caught the end and tried to stop her. Morgan stopped dead, then flew backwards, bumping into Jack and hitting her head hard as she fell to the ground. She caught one last glimpse of the dirt road before she blacked out.

•••

Laying Morgan down on her bed in her cabin, Jack sat down in the nearby chair with a heavy sigh. Chasing a frantic noblewoman down the streets of Tortuga, then knocking her out accidentally and having to carry her back to the ship was tiring work. Luckily for him he brought a bottle of rum. He sat there for maybe half an hour, taking a drink every now and then, and was about to down another swig of rum when there came a groan from below him.

"No more drinking, Mr. Sparrow." Morgan moaned. "You smell like a brewery."

Startled to the point where he almost spilled his rum on her, Jack quickly placed the bottle on the desk next to him. "Mornin' luv." He smirked. "And it's _Captain_, if ye don't mind."

Morgan gave him a look that stated plainly, "You wish".

"Jack, then."

Morgan smirked. "In your dreams, Mr. Sparrow."

Jack sighed pointedly. "Is there anything that could possibly convince ye to call me Jack?"

Morgan thought for a moment. "Let Walter out of the brig."

Recalling the glare of death the butler had given him the moment he met him, Jack tensed. "Eh, anything _else_?"

"I don't think so."

"How about if I—"

"Mr. Sparrow."

"_Captain_. But what if I—"

"_Mr. Sparrow_."

"_A'right!_" Jack gave in, holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Fine. I'll let 'im out—but he stays in this room wit' ye, an' if there's any funny business, he goes back."

Morgan was in the middle of smiling victoriously when she realized that her dress and corset were gone—all she had on was her camisole and drawers. "_Mr. Sparrow, did you undress me?_" she nearly shrieked, pulling the blankets up to cover herself.

"You were unconscious," Jack explained, unsure why she was so upset. "If I didn' take that corset off, ye wouldn' be able to breathe and _wait a minute!_ It's _Jack_, luv—I expect ye to keep _yer_ end o' the bargain."

"I just didn't say _when._"

Realizing he had been tricked, Jack frowned and sighed heavily, his eyebrow twitching slightly. "I've been had…" he muttered, his eyebrows rising. "That was good—ye'd make a good pirate, luv."

"You think so?" Morgan's grin returned. "Now hand me my clothes and turn around."

•••

"I don't trust him," Walter frowned.

"Well, of course not," Morgan rolled her eyes, smirking at the thought of Walter and Jack becoming friends. "I trust him more than the rest of the crew, though."

Walter scoffed. "Ah yes, the crew," he smirked bitterly as he crossed his legs. He sat on the chair beside her bed while she was seated at her desk, scribbling notes in her diary. "You seem rather calm about all this," he noted, his smirk widening, one eyebrow lifting. "Could it be that you have a plan?"

"The makings of one," Morgan chewed on the end of her quill. "We're under a sort of house arrest, which is more than the rest of the honest crew can say. _The Cloud Treader_ is sailing in open waters now, so it's not like we can hop in one of the longboats and row away. No doubt Jack knows that, and he seems to have taken a liking to me, so it's only a matter of time before he lets me on deck. When that happens, I'll see what I can do."

The ship made a sudden lurch that caused both of them to nearly fall out of their chairs. Looking at each other, they barely had time to exchange surprised looks before the boat lurched again.

"It appears we've hit a storm," Walter said calmly.

A commotion of raised voices became audible through the cabin door.

"Tie down the sails!"

"Secure the cargo!"

Standing up and steadying herself against the wall as the ship lurched again, Morgan made her way to the door. With the crew busy securing the ship, she'd take her chances slipping onto the deck.

Just as she suspected, the crew was so busy that they didn't even notice her. Even when she stood in the middle of the deck, no one paid her any heed. She was drenched in seconds by a combination of rain and waves splashing over the deck, but she ignored it for the time being—now to formulate an escape.

No sooner had she thought she was in the clear when Jack yelled at her from the helm. "Morgan! What're ye doin' out of yer cabin! Get back—"

Jack was interrupted by a large wave sweeping onto the deck, knocking him backwards, forcing Morgan to cling to the mast for dear life. When the water cleared, the helm was unmanned.

Gasping at the horrible discovery she made, Morgan ran up the stairs to the stern of the ship, frantically searching the waters behind them. She could faintly see an object in the water, struggling to remain at the surface.

Something in her snapped and, abandoning all manners and properness, she searched for anything that could help. Her eyes fell on an unused rope tied to a pin on the starboard rail. She quickly grabbed the end of the rope and tied it tightly around her waist. Yanking the rope free of the pin, she took off towards the stern of the ship.

"_Scarlet, what 'r ya doin'!_" Gibbs yelled from behind her.

"_Miss Scarlet!_" Walter shouted, trying and failing to stop her.

Morgan didn't have time to answer. She prayed that the men got the hint that she was expecting them to pull her and Jack back up once she reached him. Leaping from the stern and diving into the dark water after Jack, she swam desperately towards the captain, who was faintly trying to stay afloat. "_Jack!_" Reaching out her hand, she grabbed a hold of his outstretched arm, and then gave a sharp tug on the rope.

"Nice to see ye, luv!" Jack smirked. "And ye called me Jack!"

At about that moment, there came a sudden jerk on the rope as Walter, Gibbs, and a few other crewmembers began pulling them back to the ship.

Jack wrapped an arm around her waist and held onto the rope with the other. "Clever, darlin'. I didn't think you cared."

Morgan was stopped from answering back any of the many snide comments that shot through her head when she noticed the ship roll over a rather large wave. As soon as the ship passed it, it breached and started rolling down towards them. She went completely still, her mind, usually filled with brilliant ideas, completely blank. That _wasn't in the plan…_

"Take a breath." Jack said in a voice hanging between fear and certainty, as if he knew something she didn't or was at least hoping that he did.

Reluctantly, Morgan took a deep breath. Jack mirrored her, and then, as the wave crashed over them, he grabbed her head and shoved it underwater, ducking under himself, shielding both of them from the brute force of the wave.

A second later, Morgan opened her eyes to discover her and Jack several meters under water. The sight was almost ethereal—the dark sea lit up by a single flash of lightning, the waves like abstract shapes in a painting, and the bottom of _the Cloud Treader_—immaculately clean, free from algae and barnacles—above them.

The tension on the rope returned, and the surface steadily approached.

But it wasn't approaching quickly enough. Morgan winced as her lungs began to burn, screaming for air. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to keep herself from inhaling and drowning. Shutting her eyes tight, she felt reflex begin to take over, and her mouth slowly opened.

A hand grasped her wrist, pulling her hand away, and a sudden warmth sealed over her mouth. Morgan's eyes flew open as a warm breath filled her lungs, temporarily quenching their thirst, greeted by a familiar face, now incredibly uncomfortably close to hers. Jack gave her a cocky grin as their lips parted.

Morgan, feeling her cheeks color, quickly looked towards the surface, which was almost upon them. She and Jack were both running low on air, and fought to hold on until they surfaced.

There came a sudden yank on the rope, and the two were wrenched from the depths of the ocean and thrown onto the deck of the ship, coughing and gasping for air, dripping from head to toe. It was completely silent for a few long moments, save the sputtering of the two swimmers. A sudden chuckle broke the silence, and quickly grew until the whole crew—save Morgan and Jack, who were still choking on seawater—was laughing with disbelief and relief.

When she finally caught her breath, Morgan got into a more comfortable sitting position and proceeded to wring the water from her hair and dress.

Jack choked out a mouthful of salt water, after having apparently swallowed a large amount of seawater, and was still coughing it all out. When he had finished gasping for air like a fish out of water, Morgan decided to lighten the mood. "It was refreshing, but I _never_ want to do _that_ again…"

The crew chuckled at her lighthearted jest after diving right into the arms of death.

Walter wrapped a dry blanket around her shoulders and tossed the other one to Jack. "Miss Scarlet," he said in a firm voice, looking her right in the eye, "if you _ever_ try that again, I'll kill you _myself_, so please restrain yourself, or I may not be able to keep the promise I made your father." A subtle grin at the end of his scolding let her know what he could not say—that he was proud of her and relieved she was safe.

"This girl's really somethin', cap'n!" Gibbs chuckled. "I 'ad my doubts abou' 'er, but then she goes out an' pulls ye from the very jaws o' the sea! This girl ain't bad luck at all! If she be anythin', she be good luck!"

The crew cheered.

The storm had died down by then. The waves were substantially smaller, and the sky was now a slightly lighter gray. She looked to Jack, who was looking over at her at the exact same moment. They exchanged relieved grins before Morgan was forced to break the stare and laugh at the foolishness of the crew, who had begun to sing, "for _she's_ a jolly good fellow", and rather tunelessly at that. Soon the entire ship was rolling with laughter as _the Cloud Treader_ skimmed through the now calm blue-green sea.


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: The journey be gettin' far more perilous fer our heros, but before we return teh their voyage, ye know what this sea dog has teh do. The disclaimer. It saddens this ol' freebooter turned writer teh admit that if the character be cool, 'tis probably not mine. There be many new characters comin' inteh play in this 'ere chapter, though, that be mine. Ye don' recognize 'em? Yup—mine. But not ol' Jack. Sigh. Now on to the story, me loyal guppies!

Chapter 4

The next day passed without incident. With a grin and a glare, Jack sent Morgan and Walter back to the noblewoman's cabin, letting them escape with a warning just this once as they _did_ save his life. It was well into the evening, when Jack's clothes had finally dried, that at the sound of a shrill whistle in the distance he noticed something off the port side of the ship. Squinting to get a better view, he discovered he was staring at another ship.

The boat was about the same size as _the Cloud Treader_, although nowhere near as well kept. The body of the ship was made of a worn wood stained a light jade by the salt of the sea. The sails were a ragged light yellow-green canvas torn in several places. He could barely see a golden engraved title on the bow of the ship, just behind and below the figurehead of a beautiful golden angel-like maiden. "_The Sylph_…" he mumbled to himself. "…So she's a Dutch ship…" A set of signal flags flew atop the main mast.

Gibbs joined him in staring at the ship.

"Looks like they want somethin'," Jack murmured.

"Ye know 'ow teh read signal flags?" Gibbs looked at him, surprised.

"No," Jack answered, shrugging. "Just guessin'."

"Miss Scarlet's butler be an old sea dog, cap'n," came a voice to his right. He turned to see Rackham, the blind buccaneer they had invited to join their crew a month ago, tying off a line. "Bet he'd understand signal flags."

Sending Gibbs to fetch the man, he continued to watch _the Sylph_ warily. _No honest ship sails _these_ waters…_

"Yes, Mr. Sparrow," came Walter's voice as he approached the captain, watching him from down his nose.

Jack gestured to the ship on the horizon.

The butler squinted, examining the flags on the mast for a few moments. "She wishes to come alongside," he said simply, "while they make some minor repairs."

"Ah, o' course," Jack nodded, motioning back to Morgan's cabin. "Thank you, that'll be all." The butler made to turn around. "Oh, and one more thing," Jack stopped him. "You smell… funny."

Walter lifted one eyebrow. "Clean?"

"Ya, that's it," Jack smirked and nodded. "Ye might wanna take care o' that." He then waved him back to Miss Scarlet's quarters.

_The Sylph_ slowly pulled alongside _the Cloud Treader_, most of the crew still within the ship, apparently. Gibbs had the rest of their crew lower boarding planks, while Jack stepped onto the lower deck to greet the captain.

Two men and a woman stared back at him from _the Sylph_. The first man was tall, lanky, and heavily tanned. He was dressed in leather and straw-colored cloth that hung from his thin yet muscular body. The outline of a golden sun had been tattooed on his forehead, two rays extending over his eyebrows and down his checks to his jaw. His hair was a golden blonde, tucked under a large brown hat with a white feather fluttering in the breeze.

Jack smirked, his thoughts drifting to Will Turner. That silly eunuch and his feathered hat… He wondered how the reluctant pirate was doing now.

The second man Jack immediately knew was the captain. His blood-red hair had been cut short in front, though the hair on the nape of his neck had been allowed to grow past his waist. Clad in a jade jacket and britches most likely stolen from some aristocrat, he watched the crew of _the Cloud Treader_ with calculating golden hazel eyes. His right arm was looped around the woman's waist, while the other rested on the decorated hilt of his cutlass.

The woman at the captain's side was wearing nothing more than a silver corset with a small white chemise underneath it, an extremely short white skirt, knee-high gray boots, and assorted silver bangles around her wrists and ankles. She had extremely long platinum-blonde hair and fair skin barely freckled by the sun. She was tattooed in almost the same fashion as the first man, a silver crescent moon instead of a golden sun. A gentlewoman's cap rested atop her head, a white feather on the left side. Yep, they were _definitely_ related.

"Ahoy, mate." The captain said in a deep, slightly raspy voice as he strode across the boarding plank. "I'd like teh thank ye fer lettin' us come aside while we fix the ol' girl. We been limpin' about fer days now, keepin' 'er from Davy Jones' Locker by sheer willpower, lookin' fer a ship teh beg hosp'tality off 'a. An' from the looks of it, we be lucky enough teh run up across a crew o' fellow freebooters."

Jack shrugged. "No need teh thank us, mate. Merely passin' through."

"Oh really?" the man cocked his head up and to the side slightly.

Jack nodded. "Aye."

The captain glanced over his shoulder to the tanned bosun to his right. "Corsair, tell the men teh take the rum back to the—"

"—Although!" Jack stopped him quickly, "—we _are_ running a short'ge of rum these days."

The red-haired pirate smirked. "Alright, then. To whom do I owe a generous gift of grat'tude?"

A bit disappointed that the captain didn't recognize him, Jack forced himself to remain cordial. "Cap'n Jack Sparrow," he grinned as he held out his hand, making sure he got a flash of the tattoo.

The man blinked. "_Jack Sparrow_?" His eyebrows rose.

Jack's grin widened proudly.

The captain smirked, shaking the smug pirate's hand. "Cap'n Flint de Graff. Where's _the Black Pearl_?"

His shoulders drooped. Once again, his reputation was failing him without his infamous vessel. "In fer repairs."

"Ah, so this beauty's commandeered then?"

"Fer the moment." He gestured towards the captain's quarters, hoping to change the subject. "Welcome aboard, mate."

The three pirates boarded the ship and wandered towards the cabin, Flint's companions admiring the ship as they followed him.

Jack leaned to his left slightly, whispering to Gibbs in a tone low enough so that their guests wouldn't hear him. "Keep an eye on 'em."

"Ye don' trust 'em then?" Gibbs murmured back.

"As much as I'd trust that scoundrel Barbossa."

Gibbs nodded, backing away to notify the crew.

Taking a deep breath, Jack prayed that he'd be proven wrong by the trio and moved to show them around the ship.

•••

"What are you getting all dressed up for?" Walter asked with a smirk as he finished buttoning up the back of Morgan's best white dress.

"I plan on taking a stroll on deck, and Jack is not going to stop me," Morgan said resolutely as she ran a brush through her hair.

"And wearing this dress will guarantee that?" Walter chuckled.

"Quiet, you," Morgan rolled her eyes as she tied her hair back. Taking a deep breath to prepare herself for whatever the scruffy pirate captain would throw at her, she reached for the handle and slowly turned it.

The night was deathly quiet, the only sound the wind in the sails. A full moon lit the ship for her better than the handful of lamps littered across the deck. She jumped when she noticed the ghostly ship pulled alongside. It looked as if it had been dragged to the bottom of the ocean by some horrible creature and then resurfaced. A thin man she had never seen before, clad in garments of brown and gold, sat atop one of the yards watching her like a jungle cat—unblinking, unmoving. A chill ran down her spine as those eyes seemed to look right through her, and she quickly crossed the deck to the captain's quarters. The door was partially open and, hearing voices inside, she decided to peer inside.

A tall pirate with short red hair and worn jade aristocratic clothes was seated just to the right of the door. He was talking in a low, raspy voice to Jack, who was on the opposite side of the room, a bottle of rum in his hand. Judging by the way he swayed slightly in his seat and waved his arms around in a large, almost comical way, as if he were telling a very good story, Morgan guessed he was now incredibly drunk. She found herself smiling at the display. _Cute…_

There was a skimpily dressed woman sitting on the armrest of the red-haired pirate's chair. She could just make out the look that the man gave her, and the subtle nod she returned him. She began to talk to Jack in a rather flirtatious voice. Morgan frowned. _…Whore… What is she up to?_

"I'd best check on me girl's progress," the green-clad pirate said, standing and moving towards the door.

Morgan gasped and, jumping from the door, pressed herself against the adjacent wall, hoping he wouldn't see her.

The man strode out of the door, leaving it open behind him, a confident smirk on his face. Examining the ship, his eyes drifted to her, much to Morgan's dismay, his smirk dropping from his face. "Evenin', lovely," he smiled suavely. "Now what would a lass like yerself be doin' with men such as these? _Hostage?_"

Morgan remained silent, watching him cautiously.

He held out his hand to take hers. "Captain Flint de Graff."

Morgan made sure to keep a safe distance from him, however.

The man chuckled. "Why don' ye grace an ol' sea dog wit' yer luv'ly voice?" He took a step towards her.

Morgan instantly stepped back. There was something about that man's cold hazel eyes that she didn't like. Looking around her for anyone to help her, she found herself looking back into the captain's cabin to a sight that made her heart stop.

The silver-haired woman was sitting on Jack's lap, her arms around his neck, her lips on his. They sat like that for a few moments before the woman's eyes opened and looked her way. She broke off and gave her a dirty grin. Jack merely sat there, blinking rapidly, when he too noticed Morgan. He gasped and tried to shove the woman off of him.

"Oh, am I interrupting anything?" Morgan said blankly, forcing a smile on her face as if she didn't care. "Sorry. Don't mind me. After all, _I'm only a hostage!_" She whirled and ran to her cabin to hide the tears welling in her eyes despite her not knowing why she was crying.

"Norigan!" There was a loud thud and the noisy clomping of clumsy, drunken footsteps behind her.

Slamming the door behind her, Morgan quickly dragged her desk in front of the door, and then, feeling her legs give in underneath her, leaned her body against the wall.

Walter was instantly beside her, but said nothing, knowing she needed time to herself to sort things out but ready if she needed support.

There came a loud bang on the door as Jack ran right into it. "Hey!" A drunken voice shouted. "Com'on out, luv! Ye go'it all wrong!"

A sudden rage at the fact that he was still denying the obvious filled her and quickly boiled over. "Of course! After all, you're _Jack Sparrow!_"

"Capt'n, luv!"

"Women just line up for _you_! I'm sure that whore just walked right up to you, sat right down, and kissed you without your consent!"

"Exactly!"

"Oh, I _get_ it, Mr. Sparrow!" Morgan snapped.

"Capt'n!"

"You're hopeless! I can't believe I trusted you! _I hate you!_"

There was a pause. "No'wai' a minute…"

"_Go away!_"

"_List'n teh me!_"

"_I never want to hear your voice again! Just leave me alone!_" With that, Morgan couldn't hold herself back any longer and broke down into sobs.

There was a faint whimper behind the door, a frustrated "_Fine, then!_" and then a frustrated drunken slur of grumbling. "Wha'm _I_ s'pposed teh do? Tweet salk ye? I'm pust a jirate…"

Shakily standing up, Morgan dragged herself to her bed and proceeded to cry her eyes dry. About an hour later, her eyes were swollen, and her voice shot.

There came a softer knock on her door.

Walter straightened and stood ready at the door, ready in case anyone tried to break it down.

"Go away, Mr. Sparrow." She croaked.

"It's Cap'n Flint, lovely." Said a similarly raspy voice.

Morgan glanced up from her pillow, brow furrowed, sighed, and then buried her face in her pillow again.

"Darlin', I 'eard what 'appened b'tween ye an' the cap'n and—"

"There was nothing going on between us to begin with, sir."

"…Yes, well I'd like teh person'lly apol'gize fer yer suff'rin. I've also come to offer ye a place where ye won't be… taken advant'ge of…" he paused, "…aboard _the Sylph_, mayhap?"

Morgan's head rose from her pillow again. She looked at Walter, who returned her gaze with one eyebrow up. Unable to come up with an answer, she remained silent.

" 'll let ye think about it, then." Flint said after a pause. "Ye've got till sunrise."

Morgan stared at the door as Flint's footsteps trailed off, debating whether or not to accept his offer. She spent the next two hours going through the options in her head, Walter simply watching her.

Finally, she made her decision. "I'll go" Walter rolled her desk out of the way of the door as she steadied herself. Ready to go, she opened the door, only to almost fall backwards at the murderous glare she received from woman standing in the doorframe. She recognized her as the whore Jack was kissing just a few hours ago. Morgan didn't even get the chance to demand what she wanted before a hand cracked across her cheek, sending her flying to the floor behind her.

Walter grabbed the woman's arm to detain her, but no sooner had he done so that she pressed the blade of a dagger against his throat, forcing him to unhand her.

"Nice place ye got here." The woman said in an arrogant tone.

Morgan clutched her cheek, trying to bring her world back into focus as she slowly sat up. "What do you want?" she attempted to snap in her squeaky, misused voice.

The woman strut into her quarters, gracefully taking a seat at one of the chairs at the right wall. "I come bearin' a warnin'." She glared at Morgan with icy blue eyes that sent dozens of ice shards into her stomach. "If ye value yer life, ye'll do well to stay aboard yer own ship," she took a bottle of red wine from the drawer Walter had hid it in, pouring herself a glass, "and keep yer spoiled little noblewoman charms away from my cap'n."

Feeling nothing but contempt towards the uncouth woman who dared to barge into her private quarters, Morgan found a weakness and exploited it. "You're just jealous I can catch his eye without trying, while you're throwing yourself at his feet, not to mention Jack's."

The woman's eyes narrowed, giving her a glare that conveyed death with a simple glance. She stood, walking towards Morgan's form on the floor. Suddenly the wine glass in her hand snapped towards Morgan's face, splashing the crimson alcohol onto her face and neck, staining the pure white silk of her dress. "Keep teh yer own kind, wench, and don't bewitch those so completely out of yer reach." The woman whirled and stormed out of the cabin, slamming the door shut behind her.

Walter, obviously not willing to let anyone else into the room, rolled the desk back in front of the door.

Morgan had been holding her ground, keeping a firm, brave look on her face, but she let it all go as soon as the door closed. Keeping herself upright only by a single hand on the floor of her quarters, Morgan let her tears run freely again, mixing with the wine dripping down her chin.

The rest of the night she spent at a rinsing bowl, soaking the wine stains from her white dress, despite Walter's protests that it was _his_ job, wishing she could just curl up in a corner and disappear.


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Welcome back, me eager littl' barnacles! The story be gettin' better, ain't it? I've got some excitement fer ye in this chapter, but first the code of the brethren be requiring me teh explain a few things teh ye. I be not the owner of Pirates of the Caribbean, so don' sue me. Ye be waistin' yer money on a very broke buccaneer-author. I _do_ be ownin' anyone ye be not recognizin' from Pirates, though. If ye be not seein' 'em in the movie, they be mine. Ye be not wantin' teh read this, be ye? Thought not. Get ye back teh the story, ye scurvy sea dogs!

Chapter 5

Jack rolled clumsily out of bed, landing with a large thud on the floor of the captain's quarters. Quickly picking himself up, he winced at the sharp pang of pain from his throbbing temples. Outside he could hear the wind in the sails and the splashing of the waves against the hull of the ship. But something didn't sound right—something was missing. Where was the sound of a second ship?

Bursting out of the cabin, he stumbled on deck to find _the Cloud Treader_ alone on the open seas. _The Sylph_ was gone.

Although that was the least of his problems as he recalled the events of the night before.

Reluctantly trudging to the opposite cabin and knocking lightly on the door, Jack stood there for a few minutes in silence. When he began to get impatient, he knocked again, waited another few moments, and then began knocking louder and more insistently until the door finally opened. He was greeted with a death glare from Walter, who merely stared at him as if he had committed some horrible crime.

"I-is the little miss awake?"

"What do you want?"

The absolute sorrow and dejection in the voice that rose from behind Walter tugged at his heart.

Walter slowly stepped aside and let Morgan confront the captain.

She looked as if she had cried all night—her eyes were red and slightly swollen. She wore a beautiful navy blue dress with black trim, white lace peeking out from underneath the collar, sleeves, and skirt. Adorned with gold and pearl jewelry, it was a shame she was so worn—she was lovely. Her skin was especially pale, slight dark bags under her eyes, and the beginnings of a bruise on her right cheek.

Jack's jaw hung open. "_What happened?_"

"I tripped." Morgan said, refusing to look at him. She began to close the door.

However, Jack jammed his foot into the door. "Morgan, I'm not drunk now, so ye've got to list'n teh me! I swear, I didn't even _hint_ attraction t'wards that woman—she came onteh me 'fore I knew what was happ'nin'!"

"I can hardly believe you weren't attracted to that woman," Morgan murmured, eyes on the floor.

"I wasn't!"

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm busy bein' smitt'n with someone else!"

Morgan's eyes finally met his. She stared at him for a long time before her eyes dropped to the floor once again, ceasing to push against the door.

"Just this once…"

Jack blinked. "What?"

"I'll believe you just this once," Morgan mumbled.

Jack smiled sheepishly. "I s'ppose that'll have teh do…"

To his surprise, Morgan began to sniffle. Feeling he had to comfort her, and rather relieved that she finally believed him, Jack gently reached forward and pulled her into an embrace. She surprised him again when she didn't shy away. On the contrary—she leaned into his welcoming arms and began to cry freely.

Walter was watching him warily, but seemed to be forgiving him as well. That didn't stop Jack from smiling nervously and trying to avoid the butler's gaze. Instead, he ran a comforting hand down Morgan's back and patted her head with the other. "There, there, luv. 'S al'right." Smiling gently, he tilted her chin up and wiped the tears from her eyes with the pad of his thumb. "It's over now. We won't dwell on it anymore, savvy?"

Morgan sniffled, a smile slowly forming on her face. "Savvy."

Jack grinned, his eyebrows going up in surprise. He had to get her to say savvy more often—it was strangely attractive.

Walter cleared his throat, voicing his disapproval.

Releasing her and coughing awkwardly, Jack mentally reminded himself to take a _cold_ bath and quickly turned back to the deck. "Now then, who was on duty las' night?"

"Me an' Rackham were," Gibbs answered.

"Well," Jack gave him frustrated glare, "why didn' ye tell me _the Sylph_ had left?"

"I did." Gibbs said simply.

Jack opened his mouth to reply, paused, and closed it again. "What?"

"I _did_, cap'n." Gibbs repeated. "I walked right in an' told ye she left, but ye was so drunk ye didn' hear a word I said—kept grumblin' about women bein' impossible." Gibbs chuckled slightly as he recalled the night before. "Ye shouldn't 'ave drunken so much rum wit Flint las' night, cap'n."

"Tha' was nothin'," Jack rolled his eyes and waved the first mate away, dismissing his answer. "Rackham, care teh explain?"

Rackham, who was seated on a nearby barrel, smirked in his direction. "I heard her setting sail, so I tell Gibbs teh go an' tell ye she was settin' off," he explained. "He comes back all amused and a little frustrat'd. He says ye're too drunk teh list'n. So I go down me'self and, sure enough, yer sittin' on yer chair, grumblin' teh yerself about 'the imposs'um and unpresident'd temp'ratur' o' women'," he said with an accent and slurring so like Jack when he was intoxicated that Morgan began to giggle behind the befuddled captain. "I'm assumin' ye meant, 'impossible and unpredict'ble temper'ment o' women', aye cap'n?" his amused smirk widened. "Perhaps ye shouldn't've drunken so much rum—"

"Ye all _know_ I've 'ad more!" he complained. "Can we _not_ blame the rum an' _move on_?" He was about to relieve both men of their ration of rum for the night when something dawned on him. _They couldn't 'ave…_ He ran into the open door of the captain's quarters and found his jacket, still slung rather messily across a chair. Reaching into the pocket, he found it empty. "_Bloody 'ell!_"

"What is it?" Morgan ran into the cabin, rather startled by his sudden outburst.

"They took the map!" Jack threw his jacket, as if it had been responsible for the map being stolen, across the room. "I knew we couldn't trust 'em! Didn't I say not teh trust 'em?"

Gibbs nodded on his queue. "Aye, cap'n."

"Knew those scumbags didn' follow the code…" Jack grumbled to himself. "An' teh think I _actually_ drank with 'em…"

"Pirates…" Walter rolled his eyes, "They certainly are predictable."

"How did they know?" Morgan asked in a quiet voice, eyes on the floor as she tried to fathom how this could've happened. "My father kept it in the utmost secrecy…"

"An' yet _we_ found out." Jack raised his eyebrows, giving her a it-wasn't-as-secret-as-you-thought look. "They must'a 'eard about it and trailed us from… Port Royal, Tortuga, anywhere."

Morgan shook her head in disbelief, "…So…what do we do now?"

Jack felt one of his grins returning. "…So it's a race they want, then…"

"What?" Morgan blinked.

Picking up his tricorn from its resting-place on one of the posts of his bed, he felt around the inside lining. And, just where he had left it, there was a slight impression in the worn satin on the inside of the hat. Finding the gap between seams, Jack slipped a single finger in between the leather of the hat and the lining and pulled the object towards the opening. He finally maneuvered the folded piece of paper out of the hat and slowly unfolded it before the eyes of his companions. "Pirate never 'ssumes that the voyage'll go on undisturb'd," he explained in a sly tone. "Never think ye're gonna be the only one out for riches on the open sea. That map looked real' inviting… beggin' other buccaneers to 'come an' get me'."

A smile unfurled on Rackham's face. He couldn't even see what the captain was holding, and yet he was the first to get it.

At about that moment he managed to unfold the entire large sheet of parchment, and held it out for his comrades to stare at. "An' so I made me'self a copy, just in case somethin' 'appened along the way."

Gibbs grinned. "Good idea, cap'n."

Walter simply chuckled.

Morgan gave a single laugh as her stunned stare transformed into a relieved smile. Surprising him for the third time that morning, she threw her arms around him and embraced him tightly. "Jack, you're incredible!"

An amused smile soon replaced the stunned gawk on Jack's face. He chuckled and slipped his arms under hers and, with a sudden heave, lifted her up above his head and began spinning around in his place.

Morgan gasped and grabbed his shoulders reflexively but quickly grew to trust his grip and relaxed, laughing all the while.

It was inevitable that his arms would give in—she was heavier than she looked. Luckily, he managed to catch her and gently set her down. He smirked as he noticed her cheeks turn a light shade of red.

Morgan cleared her throat and looked in every direction except his. "Yes, well… well done, Mr. Sparrow—y-you've saved us a lot of trouble." Noticing the looks she was receiving from the men in the room, she flushed even darker. "W-well, what are we waiting for? We'd best be going—they have a head start on us!" With that she turned and quickly scrambled out of the door.

Jack chuckled, surprised that he had gotten away with so much without being slapped, and followed her out onto the deck.

•••

Running outside, Morgan could feel her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. _What's the matter with me?_ She took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself.

Diverting her attention to the sails, she found fortune granting them with a favorable wind from the west. Jack was walking up behind her—she could recognize his wide, clumsy gait anywhere. "How long will it take us?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Three days," Jack stepped up to her right, his gaze also to the sails. "More if the wind moves from our back."

Morgan's gaze went to the hatch. Was there nothing she could do to speed things up? _The Sylph_ looked like a rather fast ship, and she had a head start on them. She seemed to remember the ship-maker mentioning something about how _the Cloud Treader_ could fly with what he had stowed in the hold, but what was it? As her memory of the conversation returned, she searched for a free hand. "Rackham."

"Aye?" the blind pirate's head rose at the mention of his name.

"Fetch the studding sails, would you?" She asked in a sweet tone, but an order nonetheless.

Rackham stood for a moment, and then seemed to get her idea. "Aye, m'lady," he said with a smirk as he retreated to the hold.

"Studdin' sails?" Jack gave her a rather quizzical look. "This ship ain't got studdin' sails."

"Yes it does," Morgan replied simply.

Jack's shoulders dropped as he withheld a retort. He stood there for a few moments, thinking to himself, before he finally spoke up again. "This ship has studdin' sails?"

Rackham climbed back onto the deck with a large box. Opening it, he began throwing sails to the surprised crewmembers with the accuracy of a man with perfect sight. Either his hearing was _very_ accurate, or he was simply throwing sails and luckily managed to hurl then in the general area of a crewmember.

Jack shook his head, sheepishly smiling in defeat. "A'right, mates! Get those sails up! I want us flyin' on that wind!"

The crew quickly scaled the masts, attaching sails to their designated yards and booms, tying down vangs and then finally unfurling the shimmering white sails in unison. There was a slight jerk as the wind was caught in the studding sails, and the ship flew forward almost faster than the gulls overhead.

Leaning over the port rail, Jack gave a bewildered chuckle. "This is more like it!" He headed back to the helm to make sure they hadn't slipped off course in that slight lurch. "This almost cuts our time in half! 'Gives us two days at most!"

Morgan smiled. Jack seemed to be growing on her, and she didn't really mind at all.

•••

Jack was about to applaud Morgan's cunning when the noblewoman folded her arms and shook her head. "What would you do without me, Jack?"

_Find meself half drunk an' cuddled up wit' some burly man named Harry fer comfort…_ Jack merely smiled, failing to keep the disturbed expression from seeping onto his face, his eye twitching at the image that flashed into his mind.

"A pirate needs help from a noblewoman," Morgan smirked triumphantly. "You've got to be the worst pirate I've ever met."

Walter chuckled in agreement.

Jack could actually feel a chunk fall off of his pride. He didn't understand it—Norrington had said that quite a few times, and he could've cared less, but it was almost painful when she said it. "Now was that called for?" Lucky for him, he had just the thing to get her back with. "Don' make me tell the 'ole crew what I've seen ye do in the wee hours of the night."

Morgan opened her mouth, and then realized what he was hinting at. Walter looked at her quizzically, his disapproving stare making her shrink. She paled and, giving him a deathly glare, spoke up again in a tone much more serious. "You wouldn't dare."

Jack mirrored her triumphant smirk. "Never und'restimit a bad pirate."

Morgan glared at him for a few moments in silence before she finally spoke up again. "What do you want?" She folded her arms. "What bargain can I strike with you to keep you silent?"

Jack thought for a moment, a hand going up to his chin, before finally something came to mind that caused a sly gold-toothed grin to spread over his face. "Kiss me."

The utterly shocked look on Morgan's face both amused and offended him. The blush rising to her cheeks was the only indication that she was not completely repulsed by the action.

Walter, on the other hand, was _very_ perturbed by the idea. He took a step towards Jack, who reflexively backed away before he reminded himself to hold his ground.

Crewmembers began to cheer overhead, hanging on the yards to peer down on the spectacle below them.

Jack lifted an eyebrow cockily. "Do we 'ave an accord?"

Morgan's eyes darted about the ship, as if somewhere on board was something that could save her. Finally she looked back to the grinning pirate captain, a worried, nervous expression on her face. "You're not going to let me out of this, are you?"

Jack merely pulled up a bench and, sitting down, patted the spot next to him. Walter stood next to him, looming over him threateningly. Jack, determined not to be intimidated again, swatted him away. "Sorry, luv. Never play games with a pirate. We don' play by the rules."

Morgan, quite flustered at this point, began taking deep breaths while looking anywhere but at him, apparently mentally reassuring herself. He chuckled to himself at how adorable she was when she was nervous—pacing back and fourth, muttering under her breath as she silently prepared herself, even pulling out a handkerchief and touching her lips with it before finally she faced him. She sent a warning glare his way.

Jack held his hands up in a peaceful gesture, though he couldn't keep the amused grin from his face.

Morgan cautiously approached, sitting down slowly on the bench, her eyes never leaving him for a moment.

More cheers came from above them as the crew began to clap and holler for them to "kiss a'ready".

Morgan shot him a don't-you-dare-do-anything-stupid glare before she shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them slightly as she began to slowly lean forward.

They were only a hare apart when Jack, not wanting to startle her too much before he did what he planned to, murmured a single word to her to explain himself. "_Pirate_."

With that, he closed the distance between them, his hands darting up to clutch the sides of her face as he proceeded to kiss her the way he had been taught to by the French.

There came a startled muffled gasp from the noblewoman as her hands shot upwards. But surprisingly enough, she didn't push against him—her hands slowly came to rest on his chest. Jack continued like that for quite a while until finally Morgan mustered up the strength and courage to shove him away.

_Bloody 'ell, she tastes good…_ Jack swallowed and ran his tongue across his lips.

Morgan slid as far to the end of the bench as she could, pulling her handkerchief out to wipe her mouth thoroughly with, a shocked look on her face, her face completely red.

"Not bad, luv," he grinned. "I think I may blackmail ye more oft'n."

The moment he finished that phrase, Morgan's fist—not an open hand, mind you, a _fist_—slammed into the left side of his face, sending him sailing off the bench onto the deck below.

There came an uproar of amused howls from the crew above them.

Rolling onto his back and managing to sit up, Jack clutched his nose and mouth with his left hand as he looked up to Morgan with dizzy, unfocused eyes. When his world finally came partially back into focus, he smiled and attempted to say something. However, the moment he opened his mouth, the pain finally hit him. All he managed to say was, "…A-…aa-_oow!_"

•••

"Oh, quit whining." Morgan rolled her. "I pulled that punch."

"Ye almost broke me nose!" Jack whined, "an' who taugh' ye teh pull punches?" Touching the cloth to his bleeding nose, he hissed in pain as he reluctantly held the cold cloth in place.

There was a slight cough behind them. The entire crew turned in unison and looked at Rackham, who was smiling sheepishly. "…Guilty."

He had done a good job teaching her, Gibbs would admit to that. Aside from the shock, the only damage she had done was to split the skin on his nose and the left side of his top lip. The most serious damage had been to Jack's pride.

"You should learn to protect yourself," Morgan smirked, examining her nails to further remind Jack that a _woman_ had crippled his pride.

"I know '_ow_ to protect me'self," he moaned, gently lifting the cloth from his nose only to wince—thus the accent on the "how"—and delicately return it.

Walter gave a laugh from behind him.

"Against _men_," Morgan corrected him. "A lot of good a knowledge of sword fighting does in unarmed combat against the women of Tortuga."

Jack's shoulders tensed, memories flooding back to him. "I'll work on it," he said quickly, as if he were trying to think of a way to change the subject. "Well, I'll bet yer noble parents never taught ye how teh defend yerself in _armed_ combat."

Morgan's head tilted up. "No, because it was not necessary."

"When ye're sailin', it's _very_ necessary," Jack said as he removed the cloth from his face, his grin returning, " 'specially when ye're sailin' wit pirates. Lucky fer ye I'm willin' teh teach ye!"

'_E's fall'n for 'er a'right…_ Gibbs smirked as Jack searched the crew for a spare sword for Morgan to train with. _'E's bloody fall'n off a cliff and smash'd into the rocks below…_

•••

Jack had the deck was cleared of all rope coils, barrels, and all other items that could get in the way. Morgan took the cutlass Jack handed her with uncertain hands, holding it awkwardly with both hands as she waited for his instructions. Jack started out going through basic blocks and footwork. It was all a little too complex for her, even taking into account the fact that she was wearing a rather large and rather restricting dress. At one point Jack had to step behind her and take a hold of her arms to guide her through the movement. He was far too close, causing her heart to pound in her chest and her cheeks to flush. When he finally stepped away and drew his sword again, Morgan was sure her hands were trembling. Afraid she might accidentally hurt him, she barely put any strength behind her blows and slowed them to the point where Jack could probably even see them coming.

Proving her suspicions true, Jack easily knocked the sword out of her hands. He shook his head. "No mercy, luv—ye won't receive any." With a grin he added one last comment, "Do I need to blackmail ye again?"

Suddenly filled with anger, Morgan tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword and, as Jack turned to retrieve something from the captain's quarters, she threw it at him.

The sword flew through the air and embedded itself right between the door and the frame. Jack went completely still as he noticed the sword mere centimeters from his hand, which rested on the doorknob. He slowly pulled his hand to safety away from the swaying blade of the sword and, after a small pause, grasped the hilt. He tugged hard, but was unable to pull the weapon out, no matter how much he rattled it. Trying the doorknob, he found the door effectively jammed shut. He whirled and stared at her, his shoulders drooping and his arms going out in a questioning gesture. "_How do you people do that?_"

"I may not be very good with a sword," Morgan cocked her head up, "but I am _very_ _good_ at throwing things, and you _do not_ want to try me."

Gibbs gave an awed whistle.

"Land 'ho!"

Morgan blinked and quickly ran to the bow of the ship, grasping the railing in excitement as she noticed the decently sized island ahead of them. _There it is…_

Jack was yelling orders to have the anchor dropped and the longboats readied. Not wanting to be left behind, Morgan joined Walter in boarding the nearest dinghy, Jack on her heels, and watched as the mouth of the cave the treasure was supposedly in neared. As the dinghy hit the beach, Jack leapt into the shallow water and, despite Morgan's objections, easily picked her up and carried her to dry land. When he set her down, she quickly distanced herself from him—being too close to him was clouding her mind.

The group cautiously neared the dark cave entrance. Morgan noticed a large stone with a basin carved into the top that connected to a stone channel that continued into the cave, with some sort of fluid inside it. Gibbs had just managed to get a torch lit when she snatched it from his hands. Ignoring his offended, "Hey!" she stepped towards the basin and, looking warily into the black cavern, plunged the torch into the liquid. The fluid instantly ignited, a line of fire darting into the cave until it reached what seemed to be the center of the cavern. There was another burst of fire as the tongue split into six separate arms of flame that raced to their own respective section of the circular cave, until the whole cavern was lit.

Morgan, as well as the rest of the company behind her, gaped in wide-eyed wonder at the spectacular display, as well as what the fire had revealed.

The cave was huge, the walls lined with stone figures of one-eyed heathen gods, the center filled with piles upon piles of gold and other treasures.

The entire motley crew was speechless as they gaped at the trove they had stumbled upon. Morgan could only find a whisper to voice what they all were thinking. "…Whoa…"

•••

On the other side of the island an ominous shadow drifted on the waves. The sun flashed twice as its light reflected off a piece of metal somewhere on a large rock face. The signal reached a single hazel eye searching the rocks through a telescope, causing the owner to smirk victoriously.

"They're 'ere…"

•••

The entrance to the cave itself had two rather forbidding statues on either side of it that made Morgan rather uncomfortable. The large stone guards resembled twenty-foot tall columns that widened as they got taller, forming the abstract body of a giant man with no legs, atop a circular stone base. One large eye had been carved into the face of the statue, and everywhere Morgan stepped, it appeared to be staring at her.

There was an inscription at the base of the right stone guard, one which one of the Indian crewmembers apparently knew how to read. He read it once in its native language, and then, upon receiving blank stares from the rest of the crew, translated. "Welcome you are to the gifts left in this space," he translated, "but as gods of peace, honor this, our sacred place. Basically, take what you want, but draw a weapon and die."

_Such a heartwarming message…_ Morgan's brows furrowed. _Well, at least it wasn't, "Touch anything and die"…_

Jack slowly approached the stone guards, watching them cautiously as he lifted a foot and took a rather large step over the threshold. There was an uneventful pause. When nothing happened, Jack let out a relieved sigh. " 'S a'right, mates."

Breathing a similar sigh of relief, Morgan, as well as the entire crew, ran into the cave. She looked around her so fast that she had to stop herself to keep from getting dizzy and falling over.

Soon the cave was filled with pirates running about, inspecting various valuables with excited, almost disbelieving expressions on their faces.

Morgan turned to her left to see a sword jutting out of a large stone in the middle of a pile of gold coins, jeweled necklaces, and other trinkets. Stepping up to the blade, she ran a hand across the jeweled hilt. _It's just like King Arthur of Camelot_, she thought with a smile. Curious to see if she could pull the blade out, she gently grasped the hilt and pulled. There was a loud ping as a ring off the top of the hilt broke off, the rest of the sword stuck too deeply in the stone to budge. Morgan stifled a gasp as she juggled the ring about between her startled hands. She finally managed to catch it and, clutching it close to her chest, glanced about her to make sure no one had seen that.

It was then that she noticed a large blue-violet orb hovering above a gold altar on the opposite end of the cave to her right. It was beautiful—it seemed to glow like ocean water when the sun shone on it, thought there was no sunlight in the cavern. She swore she could hear the ebb and flow of the ocean currents and the crash of waves against the hull of a ship.

The feel of the ring in her hands snapped her back to reality. She had more important things to do—like figure out how to fix the sword. She placed the ring atop the hilt, in the spot where it had once sat, but it wouldn't stay. Almost slamming it onto the hilt, she tried jamming it back into place, she tried twisting it back on, but it was no good—it was broken for good. _Oops…_

•••

Through the entrance crept thirteen shadowy figures, each one low to the ground and as far from the fiery channel as possible. One of the shadows, whose clothes glimmered silver in the firelight, looked to the group's leader, and then to where his eyes had drifted. He was looking at that woman again—that damned woman… Slipping across the threshold and behind a large boulder, the slender figure snarled and drew her pistol.

•••

There came a loud thud behind her that made Morgan jump and almost drop the ring in her hands. She slipped the gold ring into the front of her dress and hesitantly turned around to see nothing but the large stone guard before her. But something was different—the mouth was open, revealing a large, dark square opening.

_Strange… I don't remember that being open before…_

The engraved outline of its single eye suddenly began to glow, the iris a chilling yellow-green.

Morgan felt her blood freeze, her eyes widening as her mouth opened in a silent gasp. _It wasn't…!_

The statue suddenly let out a loud, deep howl that hung between human and monster with such force that it shook Morgan to the core, and then began to fall forward, its eye fixed on her. She could barely scream before it came crashing to the ground.

•••

Jack felt his heart leap from his chest to his throat as the statues around them opened their stone mouths and howled low, inhuman cries and began to fall forward, bent on taking Jack's men down with them. Over the loud howling echoing throughout the chamber, he could hear a familiar feminine scream. _Morgan!_ "Our welcome's run out, mates!" He shouted to the crew. "Get outta 'ere, _now!_"

•••

Morgan groaned and opened her eyes to be greeted with the unnerving stare of the stone guard, now joining her on the cave floor. The behemoth gave another howl that sent her jumping to her feet and away with a gasp, and then the stone guard began shake, as if it would stop at nothing to crush her, even if it had to roll her over. However, Morgan was not about to give it that chance, and she turned and rushed towards the entrance as fast as she could.

•••

A loud rumbling joined the howls as the floor began to shake, the cave beginning to collapse around them.

As the rest of the crew ran towards the cave exit, Jack and Walter remained to search the cave frantically for Morgan. The pirate captain caught sight of a blue-violet orb hovering above a gold altar at the far end of the cave. The sounds of the ocean filled his ears as he stared at the luminescent orb. However, a falling rock shattering the sphere like glass shook him from his trance and returned him to his search for his noblewoman companion. "_Morgan!_"

"_Jack!_"

Jack felt relief course through him as he saw his beloved noblewoman dashing towards him.

She was barely ten feet in front of him when he noticed the white and gray-clad woman from _the Sylph_—Regina, he believed it was—stand from behind a rock, pistol drawn. "That's far enough!"

The gunshot that followed echoed loudly through the chamber, causing his heart to skip a beat, time slowing to a muddy crawl. Morgan's eyes locked with him the moment the bullet ripped through her left side, blood spraying outwards as the bullet continued on its path, missing him by centimeters. The shocked look on her face, in her eyes—those lovely miss-matched eyes—tore at his heart, burning the image forever into his mind. She slowly fell forward, still moving towards him, still reaching out to him. She was so close to him when she had been shot that she managed to reach him, knocking him over as well. The instant she touched him time returned to its normal flow and he toppled backwards, landing on his backside, Morgan atop him.

His world spun as his head hit the stone floor below him. Forcing himself up onto his elbows, he found it extremely hard to sit up. Perhaps it was because of the dead weight lying on his chest. _Morgan…_

Regina smirked triumphantly moments before Walter's fist slammed into her face, sending her head whipping to the side. She recovered and tried to aim her pistol at the butler, but he was already grabbing her wrist and forcing it above her head. The two wrestled for a while before Regina managed to backhand Walter with her free hand and shoved him away.

There was another gunshot. Jack winced, but opened his eyes when he didn't feel the pain hit him, nor hear the sound of Morgan's loyal servant being hit.

The silver-clad pirate lass blinked, astonished, as blood began to soak her bodice from a wound above her left breast. The pistol dropped from a trembling hand, as Regina stumbled to her knees and then dropped to the ground.

Finally finding the strength to move, Jack rolled Morgan onto her back, pulling her over his lap. He brushed a lock of hair from her face, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly until finally he managed to choke out, "…Morgan…"

There were shouts all around him, but it was as if they were all under water. He could barely hear someone calling his name.

"…Morgan…?" He said in a coaxing tone, clinging to the hope that she might still be alive. "Morgan?" When she didn't answer, he felt his hopes shatter. With trembling hands he wrapped his arms around the limp shoulders of the woman in his lap, clutching her close to his chest.

The rumbling around him was muffled and muted. He didn't even notice when a large rock just missed the two of them. The shouts became more desperate, but no more audible than before.

Suddenly there was a cough from underneath him. He gasped and looked down to find Morgan wince in pain and cough weakly. "_What are you waiting for? Go!_" She choked out.

Finding his limbs suddenly filled with a new strength, Jack lifted the wounded woman into his arms and sprinted towards the exit, where Gibbs and Rackham were waiting. He was nearly there when the mouth of the cave began to collapse. Suddenly two strong hands grabbed the pirate's coat and, as Jack glanced over his shoulder to find it was Walter, the butler nearly threw the captain forward and out of the cave. Both men flew out of the mouth of the cavern just as it collapsed, sealing its treasure in the earth forever.


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Gettin' intense, aye? Well, take a moment teh pry yer hands from the armrests, stretch, pour yerself some grog, whilst I give me shpiel. I be not claimin' teh own Pirates of the Caribbean, though 't would be nice. 'T would be nice teh own _anythin'_ from Pirates, aye? Even Barbossa er Davy Jones would make this buccaneer 'appy as an alcoholic in a brewery. Don' get me wrong, Barbossa an' Davy Jones be cooler than buried treasure. But they be not in this fic. Ready teh get back teh readin' now? Enjoy!

Chapter 6

There came a cry from inside the cave that Gibbs barely heard above the rumbling as the cave roof began to collapse in on itself. Drawing his pistol, he glanced over his shoulder to see Jack cradling Morgan in his arms as Walter rowed the dinghy quickly towards _the Cloud Treader_.

_At least they made it out…_ he sighed in relief. He didn't know who had shot the woman from _the Sylph_, but whomever it was, he was glad they had.

Some faint shuffling came from the mouth of the cave, causing him to turn and ready his pistol.

A heavily tanned pirate—he recognized him as Flint's first mate—clad in brown and tan clothes covered in a layer of dust from the collapsing cave stumbled out into the open air, hunched over as he coughed the dirt from his lungs.

Gibbs trained his gun on the man, motioning for him to straighten up. " 'Ands above yer 'ead, mate."

The man slowly stood straight and put his hands on the back of his head, glaring at him with his dark red-honey eyes.

"If m'lady Scarlet dies, it's over fer ye."

•••

Gently setting Morgan down on her bed, Jack sat down beside her and clutched her willowy hand as she gave a strangled cry. Her eyes were shut tight, teeth gritted in a pain-filled grimace as her hands clutched into fists. Afraid her nails would draw blood, and feeling he had to let her know he was there—he had whispered to her on the dinghy, but she hadn't answered—he forced her hand open and let it close around his. He glanced down to see her side drenched in blood, and as Morgan's back arched, for a sickening moment he could see right through her. There was so much blood…

A hand was laid on his shoulder. Jack looked over his shoulder to see Rackham giving him a blind man's equivalent of a sympathetic look.

"Gibbs caught one'a Flint's men comin' out'a the cave." He explained. " 'Best deal with him yerself, cap'n."

The door opened and Walter quickly stepped in, his usual composure almost nonexistent.

"The butler an' I know a bit o' doct'rin'," Rackham continued. "We'll take care o' her."

Jack stared at him for a long stretch of time, Morgan clutching his hand tightly as she gave a strangled moan behind clenched teeth. Finally, he stood and reluctantly released her hand, walking towards the door. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Walter pulling out a case of strange-looking instruments.

Shutting the door behind him, he looked up to see Gibbs shove Corsair, Flint's first mate, onto the deck. Feeling a sudden rage boil up within him, he lunged forward and grabbed the tan pirate by his shirt collar. "_You bilge rat! I ought'a kill ye right now!_"

Corsair, however, remained calm, his gold-red eyes burning with a fire that had not been there before. He looked like a wounded animal ready to strike, but it was not Jack he was after. "I didn't shoot your lady friend. Killing me will do nothing," he said in a soft voice. "Your claim has already been avenged… by Flint."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"My sister was not fond of your lady friend," Corsair explained. "She caught the captain's eye in an instant, while Regina had been trying for five years to attract his attention. When we entered the caves behind you, Flint ordered the lady to be brought to him alive. That was something my sister could not allow. So she shot your mistress… and then Flint shot _her_."

It made sense. Jack released the man's collar slowly as memories of the cave-in came flooding back. He could remember the shot hitting the man's sister, a betrayed, heart-broken look on her face as she fell. One of those muffled voices had been Corsair as he ran to his dying sister's side.

Drawing a shaky breath, Jack turned around and motioned to the hatch. "Lock 'im in the brig."

"Cap'n," Gibbs stepped forward, "we still got 'alf the honest crew down there."

_Oh yes…_ Jack sighed. "I'll go clear room fer him, then."

Climbling down into the hold, Jack approached the brig, where the now rather filthy crew sat. Upon his entrance, several of the men began grumbling under their breath.

"Evenin', mates," he said simply.

Griffith, who had grown a beard since he left Tortuga in the hold, stood and clutched the bars of the brig. "What do you want?" he said sourly.

"I know Morgan's been feedin' ye throughout the voyage," Jack said calmly. "I allowed it. Now I want ye teh return the favor." He paused. "Morgan's been shot."

The brig went silent, every man giving Jack his full, astonished attention.

Griffith swallowed hard, his grip on the bars loosening, before he spoke up again. "By whom?"

"None of your concern—she's dead," Jack assured the ex-captain.

Sighing heavily, eyes going to the floor, the blonde ex-captain anger seemed to fade away as he looked back up to the pirate before him.

"I need room in there for one o' the bastard captain's crew." Jack motioned up to the hatch. "We'll let ye out, but ye gotta coop'rate. Fer Morgan, if not fer me. Do we 'ave an accord?"

Griffith thought for a moment, then sighed and slipped his arm through the bars. "Give me a razor and it's a deal," he smiled.

Feeling his troubles ease slightly, he smiled and shook the ex-captain's hand. He turned to the pirate guarding the brig. "Harper, get these men out'a 'ere, an' give that hairy bastard a razor."

As the honest crew gratefully filed out of the brig, stretching their cramped muscles, Gibbs led Corsair to the newly vacated prison. Surprisingly enough, the first mate didn't struggle in the slightest, or rattle the bars when the door was shut—he was about as violent as a box of kittens.

"Enjoy yer stay, mate," Jack said in a low voice as he turned back to the hold. Climbing back onto the deck, Jack spent the next half hour or so pacing outside Morgan's cabin. When the door finally opened, Jack nearly ran into Rackham, who was wiping the blood from his hands with a rag. He had never noticed the tattoos that traveled from the back of the blind pirate's hands up his arms until now, as he was wiping Morgan's blood from them.

"Done all we could, cap'n," he explained. "She's still in a lot of pain, but she's stable."

Jack looked into the cabin as Rackham exited to see Morgan lying right where he had left her, bandaged, writhing a little less than before.

Walter stepped into the doorway, but where Jack expected him to send him away, the butler placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She needs you," he said simply, and then stepped around him, leaving him alone with Morgan.

Stepping inside, Jack jumped slightly as the door was closed behind him. As he took a few steps forward, he found Morgan had been stripped of her bloodstained dress and undergarments, save her leggings, which had been unbuttoned and pulled away from the wound. Bandages had been wrapped around her waist; from just below her sharp hipbones to just over her breasts, the white gauze stained a bright crimson at her left side. Pulling a chair up to her bedside, he sat down, prying her grip from the sheets and allowing her to clutch his hand instead. He brushed a strand of hair from her moist forehead, sleek with a fine layer of sweat.

" 'Ello, luv." He said after a long pause, in a soft voice. "I'm 'ere, don' worry."

Morgan winced in pain, her eyes never once opening, as she stifled a pain-filled gasp and grasped his hand tightly.

Saddened at her lack of response, he patted her hand with his other, free hand. "Y-ye have teh come through now, luv. Ye _have_ teh." Stroking the back of her hand tenderly, he was surprised to find himself close to tears when he discovered that the crimson stain on her side had gotten slightly larger. "Ye can't leave me, darling. I don' know what life'd be like without ye…" He smiled slightly, "…A whole lot quieter, that fer sure…" Not wanting to even imagine Morgan gone, he shook his head and tightened his grip slightly on her small hand in his. "Don' leave me… please…" he pleaded to the figure on the bed before him, fighting to hold the tears back. "…Don' leave me alone…"

•••

Knocking lightly, Gibbs opened the door to Miss Scarlet's cabin slowly, letting in a cool breeze. He had brought a bowl of soup Walter had fixed for the captain as a sort of peace offering. It had been three hours since they set sail off the island and back towards Port Royal.

Jack was seated at the lady's bedside, clasping her hand in his, staring at her sleeping form, a mix of resolution and exhaustion on his face. The look of extreme suffering was finally gone, replaced by peaceful repose. Her skin and bangs were still slightly moist with sweat, but her chest rose and fell slowly and steadily.

"She asleep?" the first mate said in a voice just above a whisper.

"Finally…" Jack answered, his voice hoarse.

Gibbs slowly approached and set the bowl of soup down on the bed stand. "Walter went an' cooked ye that."

Jack gave a soft noise, indicating that he had heard him, but didn't really feel like talking.

Sighing pointedly, Gibbs clasped a comforting hand on the captain's shoulder. " 'Ang in there, cap'n. She'll pull through." He had to find some way to convince him to eat, and smirked as a rather amusing idea rose in his mind. "And if she were awake, she'd be naggin' ye teh eat somethin', so ye'd best do so, so's ye don't go an' anger the littl' miss."

Jack gave an extremely small, soft chuckle, barely nodding his head. "Aye, mate…" he murmured.

Feeling it was time for him to leave the captain be, he walked to the door and, peering one last time into the cabin, he smiled. He never thought it possible, but it was unmistakable—Jack had found his mate, and was patiently awaiting her awakening like a loyal, lovesick puppy.

_She better make it out a'right…_

Stepping out of the doorframe, not wanting to disturb the couple, he slowly and silently closed the door behind him.

•••

With her eyes closed, Morgan could faintly hear the waves against the hull of the ship. Opening her eyes slowly, she waited for the ceiling of her quarters to come back into focus. Judging by the light coming in the window, it was about mid-day. For a moment, the reason she was lying in bed with practically no clothes on evaded her, and for a moment made her a bit nervous.

_I'm in bed, half naked, why…?_

Rising from the fog with the rhythm of the waves, memories surfaced within her mind of past events—treasure, gunshots, screams, a soft, coaxing voice…

_That's right… I was shot… I guess I'm alive, though…_

The pain in her side had subsided to a dull sting, and only rose when she moved.

_How long have I been out?_

Glancing to the bed stand to her left, she found eight lines etched into the wooden table, similar to the tallies men in prison scratched into the walls of their cells for every day that went by.

_Eight days!_ She sat bold upright, or at least tired to, but was stopped by a sharp jolt of pain that traveled up her spine. Forcing herself to remain calm, she relaxed and breathed deeply, willing the pain away until it faded to a dull throbbing. Heaving a heavy sigh, Morgan paused for a moment as she heard another person's breathing join her own.

She looked down to her left hand, which was lying beside her hip, to find a familiar sleeping face nuzzled into the bedding beside her. Jack was seated at a chair and slumped sleepily at the bedside, hands brought up to cushion his face, one gently grasping hers.

Morgan couldn't help but smile at the boyish look on his face. She reached over with her right hand to brush away a strand of beads that was obscuring her view.

Jack's eyes fluttered open. He leaned up on his elbows, not seeming to realize that she was awake. He learned soon enough when his eyes moved to hers, suddenly widening in shock as he involuntarily slipped from his perch at the very edge of his chair, dropping with a loud crash to the floor. But even with his sudden drop, his eyes never left hers, and his hand never loosened its grip. He sorely got to his knees, opening his mouth silently as he tried to piece together what he was attempting to say. He finally swallowed hard and opened his mouth again.

"M—…" he stuttered, "…Morgan?"

Morgan smirked, "I'm not Bloody Mary."

With a sudden, disbelieving laugh, he lunged forward and engulfed her in a tight embrace. "I can't believe it!" he said into her shoulder. "I was so worried! I thought ye'd never wake up!"

Wincing as her side began to burn, she couldn't help but protest with a string of, "ow" 's until he got the hint and loosened his hold. Only then was she able to return the embrace, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and stroking his back lightly. She was surprised when her cheeks didn't flush, but there was something about it… a rightness that she had never felt before; a feeling that made her loathe to let go.

Which neither of them did for quite some time.

•••

His day brightened by Morgan's awakening, Jack Sparrow marched down into the hold with his old drunken-like swagger back that made the brig-keep, Harper, cheer. "Glad teh have ye back, cap'n," he grinned.

Jack grinned. It felt so good to be able to flash his characteristic smile again. Motioning to the hatch, he gestured for Harper to leave. "Need a minute alone with the chap, savvy?"

With a nod Harper stood and left for the deck.

The tanned pirate looked up through the bars, giving his work a small pause. Jack wasn't sure where he had gotten them, but Flint's first mate was stringing pieces of broken glass smoothed by the ocean into hanging ornaments that distorted the light and gave the brig a nice homely touch. He gave the captain a small smile. "You're looking in good spirits. How fares the lady?"

Jack pulled up Harper's chair and took a seat in front of the bars. "She's gonna be fine now." He stopped for a moment, thinking to himself, and then finally spoke up. "What did Flint want back in that cave?" he switched the subject to a more serious one. "It all seems to grand a scheme fer just a woman."

The tanned pirate heaved a heavy sigh. "He was chasin' a legend."

Jack leaned forward slightly, intent to hear out the full story.

"Hethen myth tells of an orb that is said to give its owner complete control over the ocean itself," explained Corsair. "Depending on that person's intent, the results can be either miraculous or apocalyptic." He frowned. "There's a chance that Flint has it already."

"I don' think so, mate," Jack shook his head. "Gods took it back, where it belongs."

Corsair looked up at him, shocked and relieved at the news. "You're sure?"

The captain leaned back in his chair, grinning smugly. "Cave came down—" he made a shattering gesture and sound, "—just like glass."

Sighing, Corsair leaned back against the wall of the brig. "That's good news for all of us; one less thing to worry about…"

Jack's eyes narrowed as his curiosity peaked. "What d'ye want here? Ye've been more than reason'ble with us, an' no pirate's _that_ coop'rative wit'out somethin' in it fer him."

There was a pause before Corsair finally spoke. "I'm here to claim my vengeance on the murderer of my sister." He studied Jack with his crimson-honey eyes. "Do you think you could permit that?"

Jack gave a small smirk, his hand at his chin as he thought out his options. "I think we could reach some sort of… arrangement…"

•••

Glad to finally be able to sit up, Morgan was not too surprised to find her clothes were no where in the room—probably being washed or mended. Searching around on the floor, she finally found the ring, which had been the only piece of treasure she knew had made it out of the cave. Unfortunately, it was so incredibly plain that it probably wouldn't be worth anything on the market. Threading the pale silver-gold ring through the silver chain she found in her jewelry box, she connected the chain at the back of her neck and let the ring dangle just below her collarbone. She smiled, running a finger down the chain as her thoughts drifted to her beloved captain.

The poor pirate hadn't gotten any sleep while she was out, so the instant she was awake, which was two days ago, she ordered him to get some rest.

It was only after he was sound asleep that the realization dawned on her. They were headed back to Port Royal, where her friendship—although she was starting to think that it might just be more than a mere _friendship_—with the captain would be condemned. Worse, Jack would be hung if he was discovered. Even with all his luck, there would be a day when his luck would run out and Commodore Norrington would succeed in hanging him. Whatever the outcome of their arrival, she would probably never see Jack again.

Slipping into a loose lacey blue dress, as she couldn't wear a corset at all in her condition, she shakily stood and, with the aid of a cane Walter had supplied her with, walked out onto the deck.

There was a fog on the water that evening. Jack was at the helm, as usual. Captain Griffith, Mr. Miller, and the rest of the non-pirate crew, who were all looking clean and crisp again, were all about attending to whatever job needing doing, right alongside with the pirate crew. It was the first time she had ever seen the men get along.

Upon realizing that she was out and about, Jack leapt down to the lower deck and ran right to her side. "Ye a'right?" he said in a concerned voice, "I don' want ye pushin' yerself."

"I'm fine, Jack." Morgan smiled, flattered by his concern. "I'll simply need to sit down a little more than usual."

Jack gave her an odd smile that didn't manage to reach his eyes, which fell to the deck. "…Well… I-I'd better… go back teh the helm… make sure the ship stays on course," he mumbled as he started back towards the wheel.

"Jack," Morgan took a step forward.

The pirate captain stopped.

"The ship is going back to Port Royal," she paused for a moment, "isn't it?"

There was a larger pause before Jack spoke up in soft voice. "Aye, luv… That it is…" He continued towards the helm.

Morgan's brow furrowed. "You're taking me back?"

Jack simply stood there, his back to her, silent.

"I don't understand."

"This ain't the life fer you," Jack said blankly. "You've got to go back where it's safe, where you belong."

"I don't want to go back."

Jack stopped and turned around, examining her with a critical gaze.

"I don't want to go back there," Morgan couldn't look at him, dropping her eyes to the floor instead, "back to _that_…"

"Morgan—"

"No!" Morgan clenched her hands into fists and shook her head, finally finding the courage to look him in the eye. "Don't make me do it—I can't! Not after all this!" Words were flying out of her mouth now that she had no control over as she fought back tears. "I want to stay with you, because I—"

The shrieking howl of something soaring through the air pierced the quiet. Morgan turned to her left as time slowed to catch something whirl past her before a cannonball smashed against the main mast, sending splinters flying out in every direction. She reflexively dropped to her knees with her hands over her head as the mast collapsed into the sea off the starboard side with a loud shriek. She could hear her heart thundering in her ears as she saw _the Sylph_ off the port rail, cannons ready. _Oh my god…!_

•••

The instant Jack saw _the Sylph_, he started giving orders, pushing his curiosity as to what Morgan was about to say to the back of his mind. "Gibbs!" he shouted to the older pirate, "release the first mate! 'S time fer him to prove his worth!"

Gibbs nodded and disappeared into the hatch. The two men flew back on deck, Corsair looking a bit surprised as to his sudden release, but ready for battle nonetheless.

Before he could shout out another word, _the Sylph_ opened fire, proceeding to tear _the Cloud Treader_ apart.

"Does this crate 'ave cannons!" Jack screamed to anyone who was listening.

"_One!_" Walter answered back.

Turning around to face the butler, he stared at him, bewildered, for a few moments before shaking his head in disbelief. "_What is _wrong_ with you people?_" he shouted over the cannon-fire to Walter, who merely shrugged in defeat. "_Load the longboats!_"

The crew, dodging flying wreckage, moved to load whatever supplies they could into the dinghies, lowering them off the starboard side of the ship.

Drawing his pistol, he took aim at one the first faint crewmember of _the Sylph_ he saw who was manning a cannon. Holding his breath, he pulled the trigger to be rewarded by an scream as the man fell. Unfortunately, another man quickly took his place.

He noticed Morgan out of the corner of his eye running towards him. "Get in a longboat, luv!" He fired another shot, the round bouncing off the cannon with a loud clang and a flurry of sparks, startling the mate manning it, who leapt away with a startled yelp.

"I'm not leaving my ship!" Morgan shouted stubbornly.

"_Morgan!_" Another shot was fired that dealt a fatal blow to a crewmember of the opposite ship.

"_Mr. Sparrow!_" The woman grabbed his arm, forcing him to look into her miss-matched eyes. "_I'm not leaving, so I might as well do something useful. Now, give me a weapon._"

Jack chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before he finally heaved a heavy sigh and, reaching to his belt, pulled out a pistol and, looking away, placed it into her open hand.

Returning to the issue at hand, Jack fired a few more shots before he was forced to reload. While he was doing so, he glanced around to discover just how much damage had been dealt to the once magnificent ship. The poor vessel was practically falling apart.

There came a loud boom as Walter fired the single cannon aboard the ship, knocking off a good chunk of _the Sylph_'s bowsprit. Morgan was struggling to aim the pistol, firing a shot that merely embedded itself in the ship's hull. But the deadly resolve on her face attested that she learned fast and, next time, she would be much more successful.

By then, he had gotten his pistol reloaded, and returned to firing. He downed a few more men—three to be exact—before he heard a familiar groan of pain. His heart skipped a beat as his head snapped back to Morgan to find her clutching her side, her face pale. This had to end soon or she'd kill herself.

A cannon shot from _the Sylph_ hit the ship's hull, the wood exploding in a cloud of fire, smoke, and splinters. Jack just managed to catch the flash of black powder as the wind swept it out into the ocean, causing his heart to pound in his chest.

Glancing back to the starboard side of the ship, everyone—save Morgan, Walter, and himself—had managed to get into the longboats and were now floating a safe distance away from the crippled ship. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a smear of black on the horizon.

•••

"Cease fire!"

As the pounding of the cannons faded, Captain Flint smirked triumphantly at the wisp of black that the wind snatched from _the Cloud Treader_. "Bosun," he said in a firm voice, his eyes never leaving his quarry.

The large man looked up from his cannon at the starboard rail.

"Make 'er burn."

The bosun grinned and, loading the cannon, aimed at the open wound on the side of _the Cloud Treader_.

Flint chuckled softly to himself, relishing in his brilliant strategy as the ragged ship fought to stay afloat. Eagerly anticipating the fireworks celebrating his victory, he saw no point in delaying the moment any longer. "Fire."

•••

In a flash, Jack rushed forward and, scooping Morgan into his arms, used one of the remaining fore mast lines to swing him and the struggling woman out onto the sea on the starboard side of the ship, Walter quick on his heels. They hit the water hard and Jack had to struggle to bring them both up to the surface. Walter shoved a floating piece of wreckage their way, which the pirate quickly grabbed onto to keep afloat.

There was a loud boom, followed by the crash of splintering wood, and then a great explosion that sent Jack flying back into the water from the force of the blast. When he was able to pull Morgan and himself back to the surface, he was greeted with a humbling sight. _The Cloud Treader_ was nothing more than a smoldering coffin, splintered and scattered in every direction as the once majestic ship sunk to the depths in pieces.

•••

Leaning on the starboard railing of _the Sylph_, Flint chuckled to himself at the high-pitched screaming he heard coming from the remains of _the Cloud Treader_. Extending his telescope to get a better look, he noticed three partially submerged figures just behind the flaming wreckage, one of them being the woman, who was struggling and screaming and crying for her lost ship. The rest of the crew had gotten into longboats, although the rest of the scene was obscured in black smoke.

A moment later, which was already a moment too late, he realized that it wasn't smoke he was staring at.

The notorious _Black Pearl_ turned, the wind caught in its forbidding black sails, revealing rows of cannons armed and ready.

"_Full sail!_" He screamed to the man at the helm. "_Quick!_"

•••

"_Fire!_" Jack shouted to his loyal crew aboard his vessel, clinging to a piece of the once proud _Cloud Treader_ right in front of _the Black Pearl_.

The cannons opened fire above them, howling over their heads as they shot towards the Dutch ship. It didn't take long for _the Black Pearl_ to prove she was more than a match for _the Sylph_. The crew of the opposing ship frantically opened the sails and fled as fast as they could, though not fast enough to save her from a severe beating.

A rope was thrown to the captain and, wrapping a strong arm around Morgan's waist, who was sobbing into his shoulder, the last of the shipwrecked travelers were heaved onto the deck of Jack's beloved ship.

And as _the Sylph_ vanished over the horizon, not a sound was heard, save the crackling of the burning wreckage and the sobbing of the woman who had lost her one symbol of freedom on the open sea.


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Yarr, I be not makin' money off this fic, so ye be not suein' me, aye? Ye've heard this all before—git ye teh the readin', an leave a review when ye be done!

Chapter 7

Morgan opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room. Rubbing her red, slightly swollen eyes with the back of her hand, she slowly sat up, careful not to aggravate the dull throbbing of her side. Once again, she found herself stripped of all clothing but her drawers, though fortunately the fresh bandages on her upper body kept her decent. Through the large windows adjacent to the bed, she could see the sun rising over the horizon.

There came the sound of footsteps, followed by a door opening. Morgan turned to her left to find Jack closing the door of the cabin behind him, a gentle look in his eyes. "Sleep well?"

"Yes," she murmured, returning to examining the room. "Where an I?"

"My chambers," Jack replied simply. "Got somethin' fer ye." He picked up a large sheet of white fabric from the large table in the center of the room and laid it on her lap.

It was a sail. "What—?"

"Crew scoured the wreckage," the captain explained, "an' found the main royal hadn't been damaged." He then picked up a small piece of wood and held it up to the light. "They also found this."

Taking it from Jack, she found a red stone embedded in the splinter of dark wood—the eye of the dragon figurehead. Morgan bit her bottom lip and fought to keep from crying again.

Jack put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Got somethin' else. Com'on." Helping her out of bed, he assisted her in pulling a loose slip over her head and led her out of the captain's quarters.

The crew was going about their chores silently, some of them most likely the crew who had brought _the Black Pearl_ to _the Cloud Treader_, as Morgan did not recognize them. Jack left her for a moment, nodding to Anna Maria, who Morgan recognized from Tortuga, and muttering something like, "Get yer thingie," to the Scottish cook from _the Cloud Treader's_ crew. As he joined her again, the crew stopped what they were doing and stood at attention.

A mournful tune rose from below as the Scottish cook took a deep breath and began to play the bagpipes under his arm. The crew turned, facing the port side, towards the column of smoke that still rose over the horizon.

"Crew salute!" came the authoritative voice of Mr. Miller.

The honest crew snapped their arms up in salute, the pirate crew following a bit awkwardly a moment later.

As the mournful wail of the bagpipe rose over the slosh of the waves, Morgan chewed her bottom lip as tears slid down her cheeks again. But by the end of the song, she found herself smiling in relief as the pressure on her chest began to lessen, eased away by the comforting hand Jack laid on her shoulder. Out of nowhere Jack stiffened and quickly separated himself from her.

"Well… Cotton managed to grab yer trunk," he said while scratching the side of his head, eyes on the floor. "Ye'd best make sure all yer dresses made it." And with that, he headed back to the helm, yelling at the crew to get back to work.

Her heart dropping, Morgan slowly trudged back into the captain's quarters, refusing the gentle hand Walter offered her.

_Will you take everything from me, then?_

•••

It was late in the evening the next day when Port Royal rose on the horizon, nearly invisible in the fog. Jack sighed heavily, forcing down the feeling that he was letting go of something vital to him. No matter what his personal feelings were, she was not meant for a life of kill or be killed.

His personal feelings… He still didn't know exactly what his personal feelings were.

Morgan stepped out of his cabin dressed in a more form-fitting slip, as she still was not healed enough to wear a corset. She looked so vulnerable, her skin pale, leaning her weight on a cane. Slowly making her way up the stairs, she joined him at the helm, a concerned look in her eyes.

Returning her gaze for a long stretch of time, he finally broke the silence. "What?"

Morgan's brow furrowed as she seemed to be searching for the right words. However, she was interrupted just as she opened her mouth by a crewmember up in the crow's nest.

"Land ho!"

Clearing his throat, he quickly changed to a less uncomfortable subject. "Well, we're as close to Port Royal as we'll be able to get without riskin' attractin' attention," he muttered, ordering the first handful of crewmembers he could find to drop anchor. "We'll take ye over on a dinghy." He then quickly marched down to the lower deck and began rigging a longboat for launch.

Gibbs, Rackham, Corsair, Walter, Morgan, and himself all loaded into the dinghy and were lowered into the misty waters. While Corsair and Gibbs rowed to the docks, he sat at the other end of the boat, avoiding Morgan as best he could. As soon as he set foot on the docks of Port Royal, Jack felt his shoulders tense. He prayed that the dense fog would hold, allowing no one to recognize him and report him to the British Navy fort a few steps away.

Morgan needed extra help getting out of the dinghy, and since he was the only man available, he reached out a hand and easily pulled her onto dry land. Unaccustomed to exchanging her sea-legs for her land-legs so quickly, she stumbled, her knees buckling, and awkwardly fell into his awaiting arms. Clearing his throat at the sudden tightness in his chest, he quickly set her onto her own two feet and put as much distance between them as he could without seeming rude. The party then set off towards her home. Jack sighed heavily, remembering in detail the house he had passed one rainy day at Port Royal; the beautiful woman in the window, to be more precise. How she would soon be back within that cage of hers while he would walk away—probably never to see her again.

It felt as if he was escorting Morgan to her own funeral, up the road to the large manor looming before them, barely a silhouette in the fog. He wanted to sweep his arms around her waist and drag her away, back to the sea where they had enjoyed each others company, if only for a short time. And yet at the same time he wanted to personally deliver her back to her birdcage, out of his reach for the rest of his life so that he'd never again have to see her body wracked with pain, drenched in sweat as the light nearly left her eyes. He had to let go, no matter how much he enjoyed the feeling of her hand in his, her body against his, as if they were meant to be together. No matter how much he loved her.

Jack's eyes widened as he began to realize something crucially important.

An odd, creaking noise rose over the whispering of the wind in the trees, interrupting him even as his mind began to piece everything together. He slowly looked up to see a large object hanging from the tree to the left of the manor. _What—?_ Taking a few hesitant steps towards the tree, he felt the color drain from his face as he realized exactly what was hanging from the tree's branches.

At about the same time, Morgan came to the same discovery, covering her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle the horrified scream that slipped from between her lips.

Fitted into a large metal cage shaped exactly like its prisoner was the brutally mutilated body of the man of the manor—Morgan's father, he concluded from her alarm—suspended by a rather thick rope tied firmly to the branch by a knot that only a trained sailor would know. And if that wasn't clue enough, a jolly roger was tied over the man's head like a bag. It had all been executed by a pirate who had no a sense of moral boundaries, pity, or mercy, for that matter. _Flint…_

Morgan's knees gave, as she collapsed into his arms and sobbed, unable to fathom a blow as sudden as this.

Jack wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders comfortingly, putting aside his urge to separate himself from her. As he rubbed Morgan's back in an attempt to sooth her, he watched as Walter slowly approached the tree, an anguished look on his face. With his signal, Gibbs and Corsair joined him in gently cutting down the cage to give Lord Scarlet a proper burial.

•••

Drying her cheeks with her now moist handkerchief, Morgan gently laid the bouquet of flowers she had gathered on the mount of dirt before her, marked with a decorated wooden cross. Jack offered his silent support by standing at her side the entire time, while Gibbs, Corsair, and Rackham finished burying the bodies of servants who had been slaughtered in no kinder a manner.

Walter stood beside her, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She cried for a long while, losing all sense of time as she came to grasp with the tragedy she had just been forced to endure. But after what seemed like an eternity, with Walter's kind hand on her shoulder, she wiped her eyes one last time with her kerchief and took a deep breath, ordering herself not to cry for her lost guardian, who had always hated to see her cry. He had always said her smile made the sun rise.

"Jack…" she turned to look over her right shoulder where the captain had waited for her all that while. However, she turned to find that the pirates had gone. She looked around in every direction, almost frantically, but they were nowhere to be found. "…Jack…?" She felt a loneliness well up from within her, causing tears to once again cascade down her cheeks. _He left…_

•••

It was about midnight when Will was interrupted from balancing the sword in his hands by a loud knock at the forge's door, almost as if someone had run into it.

"Is there someone at the door, dear?" Elizabeth opened the door on the opposite side of the forge and stuck her head inside, looking to her husband. Will's teacher, Mr. Brown had finally retired and moved farther inland, leaving the house adjacent to the forge to the Turners.

"I'll get it," Will responded, setting the blade down on the anvil and letting her get back to her reading. He walked to the door and curiously opened the doorway to see who had come so late at night.

A familiar pirate stood within the doorframe, swaying slightly, a bottle of rum in his hands. He looked almost as surprised to see the blacksmith as Will was to see him. "You! What're ye doin' in me cabin?" Jack said in a slurred tone, strutting into the forge as if it were his own home, which he apparently thought it was.

"Jack—!" Will quickly stepped to the side so as not to be run over by his severely drunk friend. "W-what are you doing here?"

"Who is it, dear?" came Elizabeth's voice from behind the door.

"No one!" he answered simply. "Just an old acquaintance!"

"What does _that_ 'ave to do with the price of beans in China?" Jack stumbled into the ditch where the donkey stood half-asleep, almost dropping his rum. He gave the beast a long, almost cross-eyed stare for a few long moments. "That ye, Eliz'beth? The years 'ave… been… _kind_…" He looked at the bottle of rum in his hand and, worry suddenly flashing into his eyes, quickly hid it inside his coat.

"Jack!" Will said in a loud whisper, dragging the pirate out of the donkey's ditch, the animal staring at him in a rather comical way. He shoved the pirate out of sight just as Elizabeth walked into the room.

"Dear, are you alright?" She gave him a slightly worried, slightly puzzled expression.

"Fine," he answered quickly, giving her his full attention so as not to look suspicious. "I just have one last thing to work on. I'll be with you in a second," he said, hoping that sincere look on his face would be believable enough.

Elizabeth nodded and smiled, turning around and walking out of the room.

Sighing with relief, Will turned around, returning to the issue at hand.

Jack had found his nice feathered hat and had put it atop his head backwards, trying it on for size. "I don' understand how ye can wear this bobble. It sits on yer head weird… An' the plume's jest supperfl—… suferpl—… well, it's jest unnecessary."

Will snatched his hat from Jack, tossing his old tattered tricorn to him in return. "Jack, why are you hear? After a whole year, you suddenly appear, drunk as a…" Will didn't know if anything or anyone could be as drunk as Jack, so his sentence went unfinished.

"Wait, lad!" Jack stumbled to the blacksmith, a more serious look on his face—still clearly drunk, but more serious than before. "I _have_ teh talk teh ye—it's important."

Will studied the captain, lifting his eyebrows as he waited for an answer.

There was a pause. "…Only I fergot it."

Shoulders drooping, Will rolled his eyes.

"A-at the moment!" Jack motioned to him in that large manner that he always had, whether sober or drunk. "I'll remember it… eventu'lly." He took the bottle of rum out of his coat and took another swig. "Ah! _That's_ it! I came 'ere teh invite ye teh me ship!"

Will sighed. "Jack, I can't. I'm married to Elizabeth now, and trying to display myself as an honorable man for Governor Swan and Commodore Norrington."

"So she _is_ a Turner now!" Jack interrupted.

"Yes," Will sighed again, sitting down on a nearby bench. "I can't leave. Even if I have pirate blood in my veins, I'm tied to the land now," he said as he put his hand on the anvil, illustrating his point.

Jack's brow furrowed. "Lad…" he said in a lower tone, "…I need ye… I'm goin' off to bight the fastard who killed me lass' family in cold blood."

Even with Jack's drunken slurring, it didn't impede the shock that came with those words. Will felt his jaw drop as he stared bewilderedly at Jack. "You have a woman?"

Jack smiled his classic gold-toothed grin.

"For how long?" he asked skeptically, not expecting it to be much more than the night before.

" 'Bout a month… maybe more."

Will's shock increased. "A _month?!_"

Jack's grin widened. "Aye, a good month."

"So how did you come about these other pirates, then?" Will leaned forward.

The drunken pirate surprisingly told the story fairly well. There were a few letters switched around and slurred together, but Will managed to decipher them and found himself shocked. Not just at the hostility of the other pirates, which actually wasn't all together too surprising, but the fact the Jack, from the way he described her and the way they behaved when together, might have found his match. He found himself beginning to feel Jack's pain and anger at this "Flint" character killing his love interest's family.

Still, he couldn't leave his home.

"I-I'm sorry, Jack." Will shook his head. "I just can't go. I've got Elizabeth here and—"

"And we're going to help him."

Will and Jack both stiffened and looked to the right to see Elizabeth standing in the door, arms crossed.

"Eliz'beth, darlin'!" Jack held his arms out wide in greeting. "I knew _ye'd_ see reason!"

"Hello, Jack," Elizabeth smiled moved to pat his shoulder, though the second she smelled the alcohol on him, she quickly distanced herself, hand over her nose. "Still drinking, I see…"

"Elizabeth—" Will stood in protest.

"I'm going," Elizabeth said stubbornly.

Jack quickly stepped between them to break up the argument. "A'right then! Off to me Pearl!" The intoxicated pirate took them both by the shoulders and led them towards the door. Unfortunately, he was a little too drunk for his own good, and ran straight into the wall just beside the aforementioned door.

Sighing heavily, Will helped the captain through the door and down the streets towards the harbor, his wife right behind them.

•••

Awakening to the familiar pound of a hangover, Jack groaned and sat up in bed grudgingly. He could feel the neck of a bottle in his hands and lifted to take another drink to drown his headache, but found the bottle empty. Sighing heavily, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and set the empty bottle on the table beside the bed when something other than the pain and light-sensitivity of the hangover hit him—a kind of homesickness he had never before experienced. But how could that be? He _was_ at home, in his ship, out on the open ocean. His body almost convulsed with the force of it. He slowly leaned forward, cradling head in his hands. He took a few shuddery breaths, forcing the nausea down and steeling himself for his return to life as it always had been. After all, he was Captain Jack Sparrow—he could bounce back from anything. Sitting up straight with a single, deep breath, he stood and opened his cabin door, walking into the dim light of what looked like was going to be a very long, grim day and right into a large figure.

He quickly stepped back, grumbling a, "Sorry, mate," as he stepped around the larger man.

"You really should watch where you're going, Sparrow," the man responded in a familiar low, proper voice. "You'll walk right off a cliff if you keep up like that."

Jack found himself staring up at Scarlet's butler, Walter. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"He's following me," a female voice that sent butterflies winging in his stomach spoke up from behind him, "as usual."

Not wanting to break the spell, Jack slowly turned around, afraid the speaker would vanish the moment he laid eyes on her just like Eurydice.

But she didn't disappear, and the longer he stood there staring at her, the more beautiful Morgan became. The clouds parted, the sun shone brightly—everything seemed to change and yet stayed the same. She simply stood there, smiling at him. Finally she broke the silence.

"He doesn't seem to understand that he's really not my servant anymore," she grinned and shrugged. "His contract was with my father, and I certainly can't pay him. I was wondering if you could get him off my—"

She was cut off by Jack, who covered the distance between them easily and wrapped his arms around her tightly. He buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes, content simply to be there with Morgan by his side again.

Some quiet sniggering could be heard from the crew around them, but they knew quite well not to mess with the captain—much.

After what seemed like both an eternity and an instant, Morgan pulled her head from his shoulder, but only enough so that she could look into his eyes. "So I can stay?"

Jack smiled and sighed. How could he say no? "Aye, luv, an' yer little dog too."

Her smile widened and she hugged him one last time before they released each other. "Will we be stopping at Tortuga first?"

Chuckling, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "You know it."


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Sorry 'bout the wait, but I be back in bus'ness editin' me brain-child. An' she be nearly done! Don' wanna keep ye waitin teh see the action windin' teh a close, I'll be keepin' this short. I don' own Pirates of the Caribbean, an' I don' be makin' money off'a this, so don' be suin' me. Now enjoy, an' be reviewin', ye scalliwags!

Chapter 8

Hiding her nervousness as best she could, Morgan ignored the lecherous looks she received from almost every man she passed as she walked down the streets of Tortuga with her head up, her white dress fluttering in the breeze. If she was going to make it through her short stay here, she was not going to let anyone come anywhere near her.

Under her arm was a long white box packed with the few decent dresses and hats she had found in a tailor's shop tucked away in a corner, a good distance away from the bars and taverns.

During the sail over, Jack had introduced her to Will and Elizabeth, two friends he had come across on one of his adventures about a year ago. They were such wonderful people, and an adorable couple. Will was a very charming, if slightly shy, blacksmith who sorely wished to help out the woman that had "bewitched Jack so". Elizabeth was a sight for sore eyes; she had no one else to talk to regarding women's matters —Anna Maria was rather intimidating sometimes and did not seem interested.

Jack had gone ashore with her, obviously not trusting her to be able to navigate Tortuga safely after her last incident there. However, he had quickly revealed that he was not the shopping type, so she had sent him to a nearby tavern, promising him that she'd be all right as long as she had a pistol with her, which he gave reluctantly to her before stepping into the bustling pub.

The issue now was how to get him out. She had heard from Gibbs that once Jack was drunk in a tavern, it was rather difficult to get him to leave. He had also told her that he was rather popular among the local whores—although she had assumed as much by the number that flocked to him, both to flirt with and slap him. She hoped she wouldn't have to deal with that, although she grew steadily more anxious the closer she got to the tavern.

Over the loud shouting of many drunken men trying to outdo the others within the building, there was a crash of a glass cup shattering, and then a loud sound of a struggle. A moment later Jack, being dragged between two larger men, was thrown from the door of the tavern onto the ground at her feet. Not seeming to notice her, Jack stood up quickly, only to stumble to either side slightly and glare at the two men at the door with slightly dazed eyes as they turned and stomped back into the bar.

"_A'right!_ I'm goin'!" He turned around, possibly a little too hastily, and lost his footing, falling to the ground with an undignified thud.

Morgan couldn't help but chuckle. He was rather funny when he was drunk. She knew it wasn't good for his health, but she couldn't help how cute she found him in this state.

Jack forced himself to his feet, grabbing onto her shoulders to steady himself, before he realized he was holding a person and proceeded to drunkenly examine her, as if trying to figure out who she was. Something clicked within his head, and he instantly grinned widely. "_Norigan! _There ye are!"

"Hello, Jack," she replied with an amused smile.

Jack motioned almost too widely for his own good, avoiding spinning and falling over again by sheer willpower, towards the tavern. "D'ye dant a wrink?"

Morgan's eyebrows went up—he had reached his cute limit and was now bordering on sad. "A wrink? Hmm," she hummed quizzically, rolling her eyes. "Come on, Jack. Let's get you back to _the Black Pearl_ so you can get some rest."

"_Rest?_" Jack said in an almost whiny tone as she led him towards the docks. "But its anly ofternoon!"

"And you've only consumed twice your weight in alcohol," Morgan retorted sarcastically, being forced to swing Jack's arm over her shoulder to keep him on his feet.

Jack smiled sheepishly at his need for her to steady him. He tried to shift his weight from Morgan to his own two legs, moving to kiss her cheek. Unfortunately, he missed miserably, falling forward to land flat on his face in the dirt in front of her.

Morgan dug her heels in the dirt to avoid falling with him, her grip tightening on the box in her arms. She stared at him on the ground for a moment before she burst into laughter, unable to help herself.

Jack seemed to have given up trying to get back up by then.

•••

"What did you get?" Elizabeth looked curiously at the box Morgan had set down on the table before them.

To the surprise of the entire crew, Morgan had walked onto _the Black Pearl_ with Jack leaning on her for support, obviously severely intoxicated. Apparently the last time they had visited Tortuga, Morgan had suffered a nervous breakdown. Her new confidence was a weight off everyone's shoulders. The captain was now below deck recovering from a spill he had taken in the streets, as he had surrendered his cabin to the noblewoman, no matter how much she had protested.

Morgan smiled and opened the box. Unfolding the paper covering what she had bought, she pulled out each item she had purchased. Elizabeth was stunned—she would never had believed the dresses inside had come from Tortuga if she didn't see Morgan return with them under her arm. Elizabeth pulled out the red dress at the top and admired it at its full length. "This one is lovely; try it on!"

With some help, Morgan slipped out of her white dress and pulled the red gown over her head. Elizabeth was gently tightening the laces of the noblewoman's corset, being careful not to hurt her, as she was still healing from being shot in the side, when she said absentmindedly, "You and Jack make a lovely couple."

Morgan grew very quiet suddenly, cheeks flushing slightly.

There was a long pause in which Elizabeth finished helping Morgan into her dress. "Lovely," Elizabeth finally said, hoping to change the subject. "I'd have never thought this could come from Tortuga!"

Morgan laughed, the smile finally returning to her face.

"We have to show this off to the gentlemen!"

•••

Will was busying himself tying off a line when the door to Jack's cabin opened and Elizabeth pulled a reluctant Morgan outside. The noblewoman was dressed in a beautiful rich red dress that made her pale skin glow from underneath the shade of a matching hat. He found himself thanking god for his strong willpower, managing to keep a hold of the line in his hand and tying it down quickly. Some men did not fare as well—he heard several lines slip and an uproar of startled cries as a sail fell right off the mast.

"What in the name o' Davy Jones' Locker is goin' on down there?!" Jack shouted from the bow, where he had been similarly tying off a line. Storming down the stairs, the sail fell away to reveal the woman in red behind it. His foot missed the last step and he tumbled to the deck face-first with an undignified thud.

Morgan rushed over, dropping to her knees as the pirate managed to roll onto his back and into a seated position. "Jack, are you alright?"

Jack smirked, rubbing his nose. "Actually hurt less than yer punch," he chuckled. Once they were both sure he was fine, he looked up at her to properly admire her attire. "Did'ye get _that_ at _Tortuga_?"

Morgan grinned, as if she were immensely proud of herself for finding such a treasure, and to Will she very much deserved to be proud. "Mm-hmm," she hummed a bright affirmative.

"I hope ye got _more_," Jack said with a lift of his eyebrows as she helped him to his feet.

"Yes, actually," Morgan smiled as she straightened out her skirt. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen…" Morgan headed back towards Jack's cabin.

Jack, however, seemed to have other ideas. He stepped in front of her, leaning against the door and effectively barring her way. "Leavin' so soon? Ye just got out 'ere—stay a while longer?"

"Jack!" Gibbs shouted from the bow, "stop trying teh imagine what she looks like _out_ o' that dress and start admirin' 'ow she looks _in_ that dress!"

Jack's head snapped up, a glare instantly directed at the first mate, at whom he threw a banana conveniently placed in his pocket. He then returned to giving Morgan a confident, imploring stare.

Morgan patted his cheek, reached up, and suddenly and yanked his tricorn down his face.

Will couldn't stifle a laugh as Jack's charms were thrown back in his face.

"I'm only going to try on the other clothes I bought, Jack," Morgan smirked. "It's not like I'm going anywhere."

Elizabeth followed her into the captain's quarters and closed the door behind her as Jack slid his hat back onto the top of his head and leaned against the door, sighing heavily. Suddenly his glare was back and he stormed back towards the bow. "Gibbs, get yerself up in the crow's nest an' I don' want teh hear a peep outta ye fer the next three hours!"

Gibbs, who was in the middle of eating the banana that had been thrown at him, groaned and made his way to the main mast.

Will found himself chuckling at his friend's antics. _Hopeless…_

•••

"I beg your pardon?!" Morgan straightened up suddenly, glaring at Elizabeth over her shoulder.

Elizabeth didn't let it bother her, and continued to fasten the back of the powder blue dress to Morgan's slight figure. "I'm just saying that you two seem rather attached to each other, and, knowing Jack, the clear answer to me seems to be that you two must have been… _intimate_ with each other."

"Well, we have _not_, thank you very much!" Morgan snapped her head forward again, not wanting Elizabeth to see the flush in her cheeks at the mere idea of her and Jack… She couldn't even bear to think about it. It was too promiscuous—unacceptable! She would never admit to anyone, not even herself, that it made her heart flutter and her imagination run wild at the brush of his hand against hers, the mere smell of him, which saturated the cabin.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said quickly, not wanting to start an argument. "You know how Jack is. I'm proud of you fending him off—that's no easy task."

A loud, high-pitched whistle rang clearly over the splashing of the waves against the hull of the ship.

The two women looked at each other, the reality that they were in dangerous waters with a hostile crew of Dutch pirates coming back to them with a frightening intensity. Outside they could hear Gibbs and Jack bickering.

"I thought I told ye I didn' wanna hear a peep outta ye, Mr. Gibbs!"

"But cap'n!"

"Mr. Gibbs!"

"There's a—"

"_Mr. Gibbs!_"

"_Ship, cap'n! There's a ship off the port bow!_"

The two women rushed out of the cabin, running to join the rest of the crew at the port rail, standing next to Jack as they noticed something on the horizon.

An uncomfortable pause stretched across a few long seconds before Jack's face turned grim. "She's 'ere…"

And with those two simple words, Morgan felt her pulse quicken both in fear and anger. So Flint had decided to show himself after all.

"Rackham," the blind pirate stood at attention the moment the captain spoke his name, "signal flags, quick."

Morgan looked out to the ship again. She could just barely make out a line of colorful flags on the mast of _the Sylph_. "What is she saying?"

Walter squinted. "…Surrender."

Rackham returned to the deck with the box of signal flags.

"Walter, be a dear and run up a message fer me," Jack said, never taking his eyes away from the enemy vessel. As Walter began rifling through the box of flags, Jack dictated his message. "Go to hell," Jack stated.

Walter chuckled. "There's no flag for 'hell', sir."

"Improvise."

With a smirk the butler selected the proper flags and ran them up the mast.

Then they waited. The silence seemed to stretch on forever until Morgan couldn't take it anymore and borrowed Jack's telescope to get a better look at _the Sylph_.

Suddenly the silence was broken by the loud thunder of a single cannon shot, and _the Sylph_ turned and shot towards them.

"Will," Jack shouted to the blacksmith as he turned and strode quickly towards the helm, "hide Eliz'beth. Make sure she'll be safe." Morgan followed behind him to return his eyeglass when he turned and, taking the telescope from he, patted her hands and smiled grimly. "Ye'd better be goin' too, luv."

Morgan frowned. "Haven't you learned yet?" she said stubbornly. "I'm perfectly capable of defending myself—you taught me. I have a right to fight that womanizing bastard who—_no!_" she snapped in mid-sentence, seeing Jack step forward to pick her up and throw her wherever he thought she'd be safe. She stepped back quickly and thrust a threatening finger at the captain, watching him warily. "Don't you think you can pull that trick on me again! I will not let you push me around and keep me from—" Jack moved forward again, "—_no!_" She took another quick step back, followed by another when Jack came at her again. "I said _no!_ _Back off!_ I said I'm going to fight and I'm going to—_no!_" Before she could struggle her way out, Jack grabbed both her wrists and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her kicking and screaming to the hold, where he threw her in with Elizabeth, who looked just as happy to be there, closing and barring the door shut behind him.

Getting up from the floor with a growl, Morgan banged at the door with all her might, but was unable to get it open. She could hear Jack shouting orders with a sternness she had never heard him use before.

"_Men_," he yelled, "_let's show 'em that _the Black Pearl's_ still the fastest ship in the Caribbean!_"

Suddenly the ship lurched forward, causing the two women to stumble and forcing them to grab a hold of something to keep them from falling.

Morgan's hand on the door handle clenched so tightly her knuckles were white as she glared at the wall keeping her from fighting alongside the rest of the crew. With a snarl she punched the door, recoiling in pain as she clutched her now raw hand. Leaning her back against the wall, she slowly slid down as she held her wounded hand to her chest, somewhere between screaming and crying. _Damn it!_

•••

Jack stood tense at the helm of the ship. He hated the last few moments where the ships finally pulled alongside each other, waiting until they came into firing range. There was no going back now.

The instant the two ships came alongside each other, Jack caught sight of Flint. The two captains exchanged glares, and suddenly the battle began. Both boats trembled as the other smashed its side with cannonballs, the space between them quickly filling with a blinding smoke, hiding the enemy from view.

Jack faintly heard a familiar raspy voice over the cannon fire, and then _the Sylph_ suddenly stopped firing.

"_Hold!_" he shouted so that the entire crew could hear him.

_The Black Pearl_ ceased firing.

As a silence stretched across a few horrible seconds that dragged by like centuries, Jack thought he could see something stirring the black smoke between ships. Squinting to get a better look, he watched as a swarm of grappling hooks flew towards his ship. But they flew much too high to be of any use, and caught themselves on the yards. Jack's eyes narrowed. What were they up to?

Suddenly four large ladders pierced the smoke, hoisted up to a vertical position and then tipping over towards _the Black Pearl_, with combat-ready crewmembers already gripping to the rungs.

…_That's new…_

It made sense now—the ladders were heaved up by the ropes that had been cast around the yards by the grappling hooks. The crew then pulled at the ropes, bringing the ladders up towards the ship.

…_You clever devil…_

The ladders came toppling down, the top of the legs bending at the hinge just above the top rung to grasp at the rail of the ship with claw-like notches. The moment the ladders sunk their teeth into _the Black Pearl_, Flint's men were upon them.

Jack barely had time to draw his cutlass before the ship was swarming with hostile pirates. Immediately he was defending himself from a particularly bold pirate who was smart enough to go for the captain. In a few mere seconds, the entire crew was busy defending the ship. He delivered a fatal slash to the man's stomach just as another moved to attack.

_Sneaky bastards just keep comin'!_

The smoke had cleared by then, and Jack could see the ladders built right into the floor of _the Sylph_. And from the looks of it, Flint was readying more. Two of his men tossed a grappling hook for each of them and caught one of the yards, tossing the ends of the ropes to the crew behind them. As the men began to heave on the two ropes, a few drew their weapons and hopped onto the ladder, which was quickly rising into the air and towards his ship.

"_Stop 'em!_" He shouted to whoever happened to be listening. "_Fire cannons at will!_"

Flint, in response, ordered his men to renew fire as well.

Jack could just catch Corsair up on the yards out of the corner of his eye as the captain was forced to defend himself from another overzealous member of Flint's crew. The renegade pirate had two curved swords drawn and, twirling them in his hands once, sliced both ropes on either side of him.

Flint's crewmembers at the ropes lurched backwards as their ropes went slack. The ladder slowed in its ascent and then came toppling back down onto _the Sylph_ with a loud crash.

Fighting off the men trying to corner him, Jack glanced over to the ladders, noticing something interesting about the creative boarding planks. He finally managed to fight off enough men to buy himself some time, and leapt onto the port rail. As he had suspected, the hinges were well over the water—if they were taken out, the ladder wouldn't be able to support itself so far from _the Sylph_. He fired two well-aimed shots, startling the men who were attempting to climb over to his ship, and then, giving them a threatening grin, gave the top rung a sharp downward kick. The ladder, without its strong grip on the ship, plunged stiffly into the ocean between the two ships, the men on it screaming as they toppled down with their bridge and right into the cannon fire the two ships were exchanging.

Jumping back onto the deck, Jack rejoined the fight to defend his ship, a new sense of vigor filling him. "They're not invincible! Take 'em down, boys!"

_Fancy tricks won't save you this time, Flint._

•••

Will thanked god he practiced swordplay three hours a day, blocking a blow aimed at his neck. Flint's men just kept coming, even though they had taken out two of their ladder-bridges. Running one of the men through with his sword, he glanced up to find Walter take out another ladder by ripping its claws from _the Black Pearl_'s port rail before being forced to defend himself. But with the cannons pummeling the port side of the ship, he worried for the women in the hold.

He hoped they were alright…

•••

From the sounds coming through the door, the battle was getting intense. Even within the hold the two women were getting nervous. Having nothing to defend herself with, Morgan rifled through the crates until she finally pulled out a frying pan.

Elizabeth gave her a quizzical look. "…A frying pan?"

"It's iron!" Morgan protested. "It'd _hurt!_"

Elizabeth was about to retort when suddenly a cannonball crashed through the hull, splintering the crates to their right, causing them to scream in alarm as they were flung backwards.

•••

Jack had just finished off another ladder when he heard the crash of a cannonball piercing the hull, and then a sound that made his blood run cold.

Morgan's scream.

•••

Coughing at the dust stirred up at the impact, Morgan slowly pulled herself into a sitting position, carefully checking for any injuries. Luckily she didn't seem to be seriously hurt, and neither did Elizabeth, who was similarly checking herself for blood and the like. The two women slowly pulled each other to their feet, brushing the dust and splinters of wood from their dresses, when there came the sound of someone fighting to open the door. Exchanging concerned looks, they split up, ducking behind the still intact crates.

Readying her frying pan, Morgan listened carefully to any clues as to who it was. Judging by the stride and the low grumbling, it was one of the hundreds of men from above them. It wasn't Will, though—he didn't have such a low voice. Raising the pan over her shoulder, she waited until the man walked into view before she brought it against the back of his head—_hard_. There was a loud clang, and then a loud thud as the pirate fell heavily to the floor. Peering out of her hiding place to see whom she had hit, Morgan felt her face flush in frustrated humiliation.

Jack was lying face-flat in a heap on the floor.

"Jack!" Elizabeth stared at the fallen pirate, and then at the frying pan in her hands, quickly setting it out of sight. "Jack, are you all right?"

A groan.

Morgan lifted an eyebrow. Well, that's what he got for thinking she couldn't defend herself.

The door creaked as another pirate slowly entered the hold.

Heart pounding in her chest, Morgan managed to flip the captain over and dragged him between the crates where she was hiding. And just in time too—the man was getting closer every moment. And then his face came into view.

Flint.

The red-haired captain began searching the spaces between the crates, growing nearer every moment.

She couldn't move Jack any farther without attracting Flint's attention, so she pressed her back against the crates behind her and slid to her right into the gap between the crates, her heart pounding in her ears.

_Don't look… Don't look…_

Shutting her eyes tight, not daring to peer around the crate for fear of being seen, she opened them suddenly when she heard a raspy chuckle. She grabbed Jack's hand, but knew that she wouldn't be able to fight Flint with a frying pan. There was nothing she could do. Jack slowly slid away from her, a ring sliding off his finger as his hand was pulled from hers.

_No…_

•••

Jack woke up to a pounding headache and the feeling that he was being dragged. Opening his eyes, he found that he was indeed being dragged, lying on his stomach as someone pulled him by the ankle. And then suddenly he was flung to his left, flipping onto his back to find himself looking up at Flint. With one hand clutching his sore left temple, he reached down and drew his pistol, aiming it at the red-haired captain whose own pistol was aimed at him.

Flint smirked. "Ye wanna risk it?"

Jack did his best to return the grin with the throbbing pain in the back of his head. "Depends on 'ow reason'ble ye're bein'."

"Then when'ver ye're ready."

A long pause stretched for what seemed to last for years, both captains not moving an inch, guns trained on each other.

The instant Jack saw Flint's finger tighten on the trigger, he kicked upward hard, knocking the pistol away as Flint fired, the shot dramatically missing him. His own pistol fired, the bullet zinging just past Flint's face, blood exploding outwards as the bullet nicked his right cheek.

Flint suddenly lunged forward and grasped the scruffy pirate by the throat, using his weight to bear down on Jack.

Letting out a strangled growl, Jack struggled against the other man's grip, but found his fingers to be locked onto his throat like iron clasps. Grabbing the red-haired pirate's jacket collar, he gave a sharp kick upward, sending Flint flying over his head and onto his back almost a meter away.

Both pirates quickly got back onto their feet. Jack vaulted towards Flint, swinging a hard punch to his jaw. The red-haired captain stumbled backwards slightly. Jack pressed Flint back, not giving him the chance to recover from the blows. This man didn't deserve any mercy for what he did to Morgan and her family, as from the looks of what he had left at her home he had shown none. And Jack was going to make sure he didn't receive any.

Flint reeled backwards as Jack's uppercut connected, stumbling backwards into the wall behind him.

Jack lunged forward, aiming a hard punch to the center of his face. It was time to finish this.

Suddenly, with an unexpected speed for his situation, Flint leapt to the side, causing Jack's fist to come in contact with nothing but the wood planks behind him. Grabbing Jack's wrist, the red-haired pirate threw Jack into the wall and pinned him there with a conveniently stashed dagger to his throat, smirking triumphantly.

"Where'd ye stash the orb, Jack?" he said in a menacing tone.

"Don' 'ave it," Jack said calmly. "Rock fell on it."

Eyes burning, Flint pressed the blade harder against his neck. "That orb was the key to my success; it enables its holder to command the waves, will the currents, dom'nate that endless horizon around him… and ye're tellin' me it was shattered _by a_ _rock?!_"

Jack didn't move, meeting the red-haired pirate's fiery glare.

Flint growled, thinking for quite some time before a small smile found its way onto his face. "There's still one treasure I can steal from ye," he grinned threateningly. However, instead of slashing the blade across his throat and stealing his life, as Jack had thought, he glanced over his shoulder. "I know yer're 'ere, lovely," he said in a low, raspy tone, raising his voice so it carried throughout the entire hold.

Forcing himself not to squirm away from the blade at his neck, Jack came to a sudden stunning realization.

He was drawing Morgan out.

"Now, come on out an' I won't 'ave teh resort teh slittin' yer cap'n's throat," Flint tapped the knife against Jack's neck threateningly. "Come with me an' no more blood'll be shed."

There was a long stretch of silence.

Jack could've sworn that he'd heard the slightest breathing of a woman down the hold, and it seemed that Flint had heard it too. The red-haired captain, with one hand still pinning Jack to the wall, backed up slightly, looking about the deck. His dagger slowly backed away from Jack's throat, allowing him to breathe freely without having to worry about cutting himself. Flint glanced about one last time, before finally looking back to Jack with a sinister grin on his face. He altered his grip on the knife in his hands and, after a slight pause, swung it in a stabbing motion towards his face.

"_No!_"

The blade embedded itself into the wall just to the right of Jack's face. Both pirates looked towards the hatch, where a woman dressed in a delicate powder blue dress, wavy chestnut hair loose and fluttering in the breeze from the open door, stood. Her hands trembled slightly, but there was a defiant fire in her two-tone eyes.

"_Morgan!_" Jack shouted, his chest tightening at the fact that he was pinned against a wall and unable to help her.

Flint grinned victoriously, turning and striding towards her, seeming to forget that he had released a now very dangerous pirate.

Jack lunged forward and grabbed the other pirate's ankles, dragging him down with him. "_Run!_"

Morgan, giving him a nod of determination, whirled around and took off onto the deck.

Struggling with all his might, Flint suddenly whipped around and jabbed his dagger into Jack's right arm.

Jack let out a stifled cry and released the red-haired pirate's legs, clutching his wound in pain. He looked up just in time to see Flint take off through the hatch.

_God, if she makes it out alive, I'll never let her go…_

•••

The first thing she did coming out of the hold was to take a sword and pistol from a nearby body. Climbing up the rope ladder tied to the main mast at a startling speed, Morgan glanced behind her at the pain-filled scream to see Flint running out of the hatch towards her. _Please let Jack be all right…_ With that she continued up the mast.

Flint was an incredible runner and climber. In a few moments he had tightened the gap between them.

Trying to think of something to use as an advantage, Morgan prayed that he didn't have as good of balance as he did speed and strength, climbing towards the main topgallant yard. As soon as she had reached it, she swung onto the large wooden rod and ran out a few good meters before she turned to face Flint, who was swinging himself onto the yard after her.

The red-haired man grinned. "Lovely, ye know it's useless teh run."

Morgan glanced around her, finding her plan backfiring on her. There was nowhere to go now, and Flint seemed pretty sure-footed. He further proved his balance as a strong wind caused the yard to shake, not budging as his feet remained firmly planted on the yard. However, Morgan's balance was not nearly as good. She teetered, swinging her arms in an attempt to balance herself, but was unable to regain her bearings, watching as the ocean filled more and more of her field of vision. With a cry her feet slipped from the yard and she fell.

•••

Jack climbed out of the hatch, his shoulder hastily bandaged, and searched the ship desperately for Morgan. He looked up just in time to see her and the red-haired captain up on the main topgallant. Just as he had found her, a gust of wind rattled the yard, and Morgan wobbled and fell.

He felt his insides tangle as she fell, his body tensing up on itself as he watched, helpless.

Another gust of wind suddenly picked up, which blew the topsail yard right underneath her. Morgan somehow managed to catch a hold of it, and slowly pulled herself upright as the wind ceased and the yard moved away from where she had fallen.

Jack felt his jaw drop.

_How in the world did she manage that?!_

•••

_How in the world did I manage that?!_ Morgan finally managed to catch her breath, staring up at the topgallant, which was now much farther away from her. The luck of her being able to land on the topsail yard just as the wind moved it under her was unbelievable.

Unfortunately, the surprise provoked by her sudden good fortune was short-lived. Flint slid down to the topsail yard using a mast line, and they were back to where they had started, only on a thicker yard.

Morgan backed up a few feet, readying the sword she had somehow managed to keep a hold of as she fell.

Flint looked at the sword now drawn against him and chuckled. "Come now, darlin'. It's dang'rous teh point that at someone. 'Could take out an eye." He took a few steps closer.

Morgan swung the sword at the approaching man threateningly, giving him a look that showed that she was completely serious about using the blade against him.

The pirate stopped, his smile fading into a disappointed frown. "Ye don' wanna do that, dear. I don' wanna hurt ye."

Morgan didn't budge, her eyes steely.

Flint sighed. "Is that the way it's gonna be?" The pirate waited a few seconds, only to be answered by silence. "A'right then…" he drew his sword, "I warned ye."

Flint quickly took the offensive, driving her back towards the end of the yard, but Morgan somehow managed to defend herself. Not only that, she managed to find a gap in his attacks and in turn drove _him_ back. Morgan actually managed to catch the obviously more experienced pirate off balance and was about to deal the final blow when Flint drew his pistol on her. Morgan stumbled backwards a few feet, her right foot slipping, causing her to fall over with a startled yelp. Luckily, she managed to land on her back on the yard, which had suddenly gotten a lot thinner. Her sword slipped from her hands and fell down to the waters below.

Flint smirked victoriously. "An' so it ends."

Morgan could feel her pistol tucked safely within her boot, within the reach of her right hand. Her fingers tightened on the hilt.

"Sorry it 'ad teh be like this," Flint cocked his gun threateningly, "…but ye give me no other option."

The loud crash of gunfire echoed between the two ships.

•••

Jack dealt the fatal blow to the man he was fighting, glancing about him to find that most of Flint's men had been killed, or were under the custody of his own crew. The cannon fire had stopped, and the smoke had cleared almost completely. He felt relief begin to course through him, though he knew it was never good to let himself relax until the battle was completely over. Something bad could still happen.

The loud bang that sounded clear over the near silence caused all scenery around him to virtually freeze before his eyes. Jack almost dropped his cutlass as he whirled around, his eyes traveling up to the topsail yard, where two familiar forms hung. Flint had a smoking pistol pointed at the woman below him, who was practically lying down on the yard.

_Oh my god…_

•••

Morgan's pistol remained aimed at the crimson-haired pirate before her, rattling slightly in her trembling hands. There was a large splintered crater in the yard just to the left of her face.

She had pulled out her pistol the moment Flint's finger began to squeeze the trigger. The instant Flint had fired, she had seen the light reflect off her white-gold ring around her neck, and then his bullet zinged past her face, the wood to the left of her face exploding in a shower of splinters. Then she had fired. There was a slight haze of smoke between them, so she didn't see if her own bullet had hit or not.

Flint's smirk remained, his hand steady, his pistol motionless as smoke rose from the end of the barrel. He chuckled slightly, a strange look in his eyes. Suddenly she noticed the slight tinge of red slipping from the corners of his mouth. "…Nice shot…"

Looking down, Morgan was shocked to discover that her shot had hit the man directly in the left shoulder, blood now soaking his elegant jade green jacket.

A second of silence passed, and then Flint's hand began to shake slightly. His numb fingers stiffly dropped the pistol to the ship below, where it hit the port railing and then plunged into the sea. He attempted to stumble forward, only to have his knees give underneath him and his boots slip from the yard. The red-haired pirate fell forward, slamming almost clumsily against the wooden beam, and then, looking at her one final time with his now blank, glazed over hazel eyes, rolled from the yard. He fell gracefully into the ocean below them almost without a splash, into the same dark blue depths he had wished to control so dearly, never to be parted from her again.


	10. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: This be the end of our fateful journey, me faithful swabbies! I thank ye fer not suein' me, but fer readin' the whole way through an' leavin' a comment! (nudge nudge) Until then, I be off to shanghai me'self a muse. Maybe fer a sequel? Fair winds, mate!

Chapter 9

"Morgan!"

Jack dropped his sword and ran underneath the topsail yard, where Morgan was still perched. To his relief she glanced over her shoulder at him and waved, looking shaken but unharmed. As soon as he was below her, she rolled off and fell into his arms. The instant she landed in his arms he was holding her to him tightly. Burying his face in her shoulder, he ignored the chuckles from the crew around them and simply reveled in the fact that she was still with him.

"Jack, you're hurting me…"

Realizing just how tight he was holding her, Jack reluctantly released her. He was met with the sad sight of Morgan's pale face beset with cuts and bruises. Smiling grimly, he sighed, "Ye need so'more practice, luv…"

Morgan grinned sheepishly.

The remainder of Flint's crew—living crew, anyway—were dragged down to the brig, while the rest of Jack's crew was either piling bodies onto _the Sylph_ and rigging the ship with gunpowder or prying the remaining ladder-planks from the port rail of _the Black Pearl_.

Dragging Morgan to the first available and intact bench, Jack acquired a bucket of fresh water and began cleaning her wounds with a damp rag, ignoring her stubborn protests that she was fine.

"Really—ow!—Jack, I don't think you—ow!—need to—ow!—do this," she whined.

"I beg teh differ, luv. Yer bleedin' all over the place." He touched the rag to a cut on her cheek only to have her hiss in pain and shy away. "Oh, hold still. Did'ja think it _wouldn't_ 'urt?" Morgan stuck out her tongue at him, bringing an amused smile to his lips. His eyes drifted down to the white-gold ring hanging from the silver chain around her neck resting in the middle of her collarbone. "What's that?"

Morgan followed his gaze downward. "This?" she pointed to the white-gold band before picking it up between two lithe fingers. "I came across it back at the cave. I think it's probably the only item that made it out of there, although it's too plain to have much value. I kept it because…" she paused to think for a moment, "…actually, I'm not sure why I kept it."

Unhooking the chain around her neck, Jack thought he could see something scratched onto the ring, and squinted to get a better look. Engraved into both the inside and the outside of the band were what appeared to be elegant cursive scrawl in some other language he had never seen before. "That's interestin'…" he murmured.

"What's interesting?" the Indian crewmember suddenly said from behind him.

Jack almost leapt from his seat, whirling around to give the dark-skinned pirate a death glare that didn't seem to effect the man at all. "Somethin' writt'n on this ring 'ere."

The man reached forward and took it between his fingers. He studied the text for some time before he finally smiled. "This is good luck," he chuckled, "No wonder you're still alive!"

Jack coughed disapprovingly. It made sense, though. That was how Morgan had managed to catch herself on the topsail, and how Flint's shot had missed her by a hair. Now that he thought back to the cave, it also explained why Regina's shot had hit her in the side, and not in more vital areas.

The man shrunk away slightly, smiling sheepishly. Clearing his throat, he returned the ring to Jack. "You should keep that with you, m'lady." The Indian pirate smiled and returned to aiding the crew in moving Flint's dead crew onto _the Sylph_.

After a moment, Jack returned to dabbing Morgan's wounds with the moist cloth.

"Ow! Jack, _careful!_ That _hurts!_" she complained in a rather high-pitched tone that brought his amused gold-toothed grin back onto his face.

"She's ready, cap'n," Gibbs shouted as the last breathing crewmember retuned to _the Pearl._

Jack nodded an affirmative to the first mate. "Send 'er off."

The sails on _the Black Pearl_ were unfurled, and the black ship sailed off a good distance away. They were about a quarter a mile away from _the Sylph_ when the powder magazine exploded. The blast shook the very ocean, flames leaping up several feet as smoke quickly rose into the sky over the wreckage. As they continued to sail back towards Port Royal, _the Sylph_ slowly sunk beneath the waves, only splinters and smoke left behind.

_A fitting end fer her…_ Jack thought to himself as he watched the wreckage disappear beneath the horizon. That_ was fer _the Cloud Treader_…_

Elizabeth emerged from the hold and rushed to Will's arms. While defending himself and keeping an eye on Morgan, Jack had noticed her fighting off a handful of Flint's men who had tried to steal any valuables they had stashed below. Will must have been worried sick. As he thought about it, a single thought repeated itself in his head.

_God, if she makes it out alive, I'll never let her go…_

_Did _I_ think that?_ Jack blinked. Suddenly having her in his arms, feeling as if she were made to be his other half, their old married couple quarrels, his driving compulsion to keep her safe, it all made sense. He _loved_ her. And not just the type of "love" he had shared with the local whores back at Tortuga, which suddenly made him feel uncomfortable whenever he thought back, but the love he had seen shared between so many older married couples. The love he knew Will and Elizabeth felt for each other.

The type that often resulted with marriage.

But could he do that? Pirates didn't marry. They just _didn't_. Then again, he _was_ Captain Jack Sparrow. He was different. If he could survive the dozens of attempted hangings he had undergone at Port Royal and hundreds of attempted raids by other pirate crews, he could marry. Sure he could.

_Wait a minute! I can't speak straight around her when things get intimate. I don' even have a ring!_

"Jack, is something wrong?"

Jack jumped, finding Morgan examining him quizzically.

"Aye! Fine!" he said quickly. "Say, Elizabeth!" he called to the woman at the stern of the ship, attempting to divert the subject. However, the woman paid him no attention, too busy talking to Will.

"Right…" Jack sighed. He turned back expecting to find Morgan still looking at him with one eyebrow up, only to find her gone. Looking about him with enough force to almost send him spinning from his seat, he finally found Morgan walking towards the door of his cabin. " 'Ey, where ye goin'?"

"It's late," the chestnut-haired woman explained simply, turning around to give him an amused smile. "I'd like to get some rest."

"Without sayin' good-night?" Jack walked up to her, trying to give her as best an abandoned puppy look as he could.

Morgan simply laughed.

Jack sighed heavily, knowing by her highly amused state that his attempt at the aforementioned face had failed miserably.

Recovering from her laughter, Morgan got onto her tiptoes and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. She then stepped forward only to give a slight yelp as her ankle twisted and gave underneath her.

Leaping forward, Jack managed to catch her before she hit the deck, pulling her back to her feet, but refusing to release her for fear of her hurting herself again.

Morgan smiled and gave a slightly relieved sigh. "Thanks, Jack. You can let go now."

"I don' think so, luv," Jack said stubbornly. "Might 'urt yerself." Before she could argue, he swung her into his arms and walked through the door.

Morgan seemed to notice something and tried to warn him. "Watch out for the—"

Unfortunately, she didn't warn him in time. As he stepped through the door, his head hit the top of the doorframe with a loud thud. Wincing in pain, Jack struggled to keep from dropping her as he stumbled about his cabin.

Morgan, however, seemed to be attempting to keep from laughing, although a few choked sniggers managed to slip out. "Are you all right?"

Giving a smothered groan, shutting his eyes tightly against the pain in his forehead, he finally reached the bed and the both of them dropped onto the soft covers. When he opened his eyes, he found that he was almost lying on top of Morgan, their faces so close he could feel her breath against his lips. He opened his mouth to say something, but lost it all within the warm depths of her eyes.

Leaning forward, Morgan placed another light kiss on his lips, pulling back to give him that same intoxicating smile that made his insides turn to jelly. "Good-night."

He didn't know how he managed to do it, but he managed to stand and walk out of his cabin, shutting the door and leaning all his weight against it. Swooning slightly, Jack quickly straightened and brushed the dust from his jacket. "_Whelp!_" he said in a sudden squeaky, slightly high-pitched voice. He cleared his throat, ignoring the odd looks that he received from the crew about him. "Whelp! I need to talk with ye and yer wife! I need help!"

•••

Peeling off her sweaty gown, Morgan rinsed her skin with what little freshwater she found in the basin at the right side of the room before she loosened the laces of her corset and slipped into her unrestricting undergarments. As she studied her reflection in the mirror over the basin, she was surprised to see that her cuts were smaller than they gave her the impression of being. Give them a few days and they'd be gone.

There was some commotion coming from outside. Jack was probably drunk again, judging by the laughter of the crew and the loud thudding across the deck.

Finding that after all the excitement she wasn't in the least bit sleepy, she pulled out a book from her trunk and began reading.

She didn't know how long she sat there reading, but eventually the door opened and Jack stiffly stepped inside. However, contrary to what she had thought, he wasn't drunk. His expression seemed nervous and almost forced, but when he glanced her way, his face brightened substantially. "Ev'nin', luv."

Morgan smiled, well aware that she was in her undergarments, but still unflustered by Jack's entrance. "I thought I told you I 'good night'," she sighed with a smirk. "Well, what has got you so skittish?"

"Uh…" he looked to the floor as if trying to find the right words for what he was about to say. "W-well, I…" he took a deep breath, "I was wond'rin' if ye really wanted teh go back teh Port Royal."

Morgan opened her mouth to reply.

"Be-because," Jack interrupted, "…I-I don' know what ye 'ave planned. But, if it ain't too much tr'uble, I-I'd like ye teh…" his voice trailed off, eyes drifting to a bottle of rum on the table at the opposite end of the room. He slowly shuffled towards the table.

Morgan frowned. "Could you tell me _sober?_"

Jack stopped, sighed woefully, and sat down on the bed beside her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out her ring—she hadn't noticed that he had kept it. Taking the ring between two callused fingers, Jack drew the chain from the ring and tucked it into his pocket. Studying the white-gold band, he muttered to himself, "Don' have a ring I could give ye, so this'll have teh do."

"Oh!" Morgan suddenly remembered that she had one of his rings. Retrieving it from inside her boot on the floor, she held it out to him. "It slid off your hand when I was pulling you behind the crates in the hold."

Jack stared at the ring, his cheeks flushing for some unknown reason.

Rolling her eyes, Morgan grabbed the hand that the ring had come from and, muttering a soft, "Can't do it yourself…" she slid it onto his finger.

Suddenly flustered, Jack slid off the bed abruptly the moment the ring was on his finger, falling to the floor with a thud. Never once releasing her hands, he quickly recovered and was suddenly down on one knee in front of her. "Morgan… I-I'd like ye teh stay with me on _the_ _Pearl_…"

_Oh my god…_

"Sorry, I'm not too good at speech-makin'," he smiled wryly. "I can't guar'ntee that I won't die some day and poss'bly leave ye alone, as it happens all too frequently to those of our… occupation…" He took a deep breath before he continued, "…but I _will_ promise ye that if ye do… as long as I'm 'ere, I'll luv ye with all me heart; as long as we both shall live."

By this time, tears were spilling down Morgan's cheeks. She covered her mouth with both hands, trying to hold back the hysterical sobs that were threatening to explode from within her.

Jack reached forward, taking her small willowy hand into his larger, worn one. "I want ye…" he took to ring in his other hand and slowly began to slip it onto her slender ring-finger, "teh be me wife." As he finished, the ring reached her knuckle, sparkling a silvery-gold in the candlelight.

And with those last four words, Morgan let the sobs overtake her, both crying and laughing at the same time, as she looked at her own hand, where the white-gold ring gleamed against her pale skin, the engravings seeming to glow a faint gold. Taking a shuddery breath, she tried to calm herself down, only to begin sobbing all over again, throwing her arms around the man in front of her—the man she _loved_; the man she would spend the rest of her life with. She buried her face in his shoulder and simply sobbed hysterically.

After a few moments, there came a relieved, overjoyed chuckle from Jack, who wrapped his arms around her waist and clung to her tightly. That laugh slowly gained in strength until suddenly he lifted her up in his arms and spun about in place.

But this time, Morgan wasn't startled in the least—she simply continued sobbing and laughing as she clung to him trustingly.

Jack eventually began to teeter from side to side until he could no longer remain standing, and the two fell with a thud onto his bed, still laughing like two giddy children. Slowly, their laughter began to subside—Morgan's sides were beginning to ache—and the couple lay trying to catch their breath.

Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Morgan's head lolled to the side to see Jack cover his face with his hands for a moment, inhaling deeply, and then let them fall where they may with a heavy sigh. Upon noticing he was being stared at, he glanced over to her and smiled one of the warmest smiles she had ever seen.

"And you said you were bad at making speeches…" Morgan grinned.

Jack rolled onto his side. "How was it?"

"I've never heard more wonderful words in all my life…"

"Why don' I try some more…?" His hands brushed against her cheeks gently, framing her face. "I love you."

Morgan gave another small laugh, her cheeks flushing. "I love you too."

Even before she had said anything, Jack was already leaning forward. The moment she finished that simple phrase, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss. All the kisses they had shared before could never possibly amount to this one—they hadn't even been meant to express affection, but merely satisfy both a curiosity and a faint lust on Jack's part. This one, though… this one put them all to shame.

•••

Peering through the crack in the door one last time, Will slowly closed it so that he wouldn't disturb the couple inside. He turned around to find the entire crew staring at him anxiously.

"_Well?_" Gibbs leaned forward.

Will gave an elated smile that said it all.

Elizabeth silenced a squeal as she threw her arms around him, overjoyed.

The crew, however, couldn't contain themselves. They hollered and clapped each other on the back, bragging about how they knew it all along.

Grinning, Will glanced over to the door, feeling his grin widen slightly. _Congratulations, Jack…_

•••

Taking a deep breath, Jack continued to pace back and fourth at the front of the church. Clad in a dressy black suit—dressy for _him_, anyway—Will had bought for him the moment he had announced the wedding, the pirate had been pacing at the before the altar for about fifteen minutes now. Fiddling with the worn red ascot, he began to mumble incoherent words of worry to himself. Trying to make him as comfortable as they could, Will and Elizabeth had gotten him a worn black leather coat much like his old brown one and let him wear it over the "_gently_ used" suit. They even let him wear his fold-over boots and tricorn. But nothing could ease the incredibly nervous feeling that was taking control of him as nearly twenty minutes passed.

The pirates Gibbs had positioned at every door were the only things that prevented the priest, who was clutching his bible in trembling hands, from running out of the pirate-filled church.

Gibbs gave the man a mischievous smirk from his seat before returning to watching Jack pace.

"Calm down, Jack." Will chuckled from his seat at the first pew, next to Gibbs. "She'll be here. Even if she _did_ try to run—which she _won't_—Elizabeth is with her. She wouldn't let her take a single step away from the church. _She'll be here_."

"Yes, but what if she isn't?" Jack said so quickly even _he_ could hardly understand it. "I don't even know why _I'm_ 'ere! I mean—"

He was interrupted from his rant by the organ, which had begun to play a beautiful tune he had never heard before. Then again, if it wasn't a shanty, he probably hadn't heard it. Will stood and, moving Jack to the place he was apparently supposed to stand, he remained next to him, giving him a reassuring smile. Elizabeth came down the aisle in a beautiful blue dress, a small bouquet of white and blue flowers in her hands. She reflected her husband's reassuring smile as she passed him, and then the entire church stood and turned towards the church doors.

Jack felt his jaw drop.

On the arm of Walter stood Morgan, a bouquet of white orchids in her hands, glowing like an angel in the doorway. Clad in a delicate powder blue dress that hugged her slender form and then billowed about her legs like a waterfall, it had a high collar and long sleeves, lace peering out from underneath, effectively hiding every bit of skin possible. Even so, he had never seen her look so beautiful in all their time together. Save a few wavy strands framing her face, the rest of her hair was pulled back and allowed to fall down her back. All of this was safely tucked under a long veil, though it did not conceal the quick flick of her eyes upon him before her gaze returned to the floor with an attempt to contain an overjoyed smile, her cheeks flushing.

Jack slowly closed his mouth, taking another deep breath, feeling a renewed strength enter him. He had never felt so certain that this was the right thing to do before in all his life. Simply that realization melted every last bit of fear from his entire being.

Walter slowly led her down the aisle, the butler's eyes fixed on Jack. When he finally stood in front of him, Jack suddenly became nervous again, afraid the butler still didn't trust him. He could hear the older man in his head, saying in a firm, threatening voice, "If you hurt her, I will hunt you down."

However, much to his surprise, the butler smiled. Releasing Morgan for a moment, he stepped forward and embraced a now very stiff Jack, who nervously patted the older man on the shoulder.

"I trust you, Jack," Walter said upon releasing him. "You're a good man, and I know you'll love her as much as she deserves."

Suddenly Jack regretted not returning the butler's embrace. Before he could check himself, he threw his arms around the older man, drawing several soft chuckles from the congregation.

When Jack finally released him, Walter took Morgan by the hand and, leading her towards the pirate while similarly taking his hand, placed her small hand within his larger one. "Take care of her." And then he left them, joining the congregation with a smile and a nod.

For the first time she looked up at him, chewing her bottom lip as she fought to contain her excitement. The priest began the service, forcing the two to break their gaze and turn towards him. Just as Jack began to lament the loss of her eyes looking into his own, she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Feeling her delicate hand in his own, the service flew by him in a blur. It wasn't until they were exchanging rings and vows that time slowed down again. After all the trouble they had gone through, two simple words to unite their souls together forever seemed so unbelievably easy he almost laughed aloud.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," said the priest with a smile—even _he_ couldn't stay afraid when there was such a deserving couple before him. "You may kiss the bride."

_With pleasure…_ Pulling the offending veil from over her face, they exchanged elated smiles before he slowly leaned forward and brushed her lips with his own.

The entire church burst into cheers and applause, a few men paying the bets they lost to fellow comrades, as the two newly-weds nearly skipped down the aisle.

Luckily for them, the church had been built near the docks, so _the Black Pearl_ was only a short carriage ride away. After saying their good-byes to Will and Elizabeth, Jack and Morgan stepped aboard the ship and into their new lives together.

The anchor was weighed, the sails unfurled, and the ship pulled from the port and out towards the open ocean.

Standing at the bow of the ship with his arm around his wife, Jack pulled the lace away from her slender neck and placed a delicate kiss there. The small part of his mind that was not fixated on the quickest way to divest her of said dress came to a realization, causing him to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Morgan inquired with a smirk, turning her head to him.

" 'S just amusin'…" Jack replied with a grin. "…A noble woman goin' on the account… Ye sure ye can pull it off, _Mrs. Sparrow? _The pirate's life isn't an easy one."

"I'm sure I'll manage."

Gibbs cleared his throat from his place at the helm. "What be the course, cap'n?"

Jack took a deep breath, staring out towards the sea as he fabricated a course. "Let's chase the sun, shall we?" He tightened his right arm's grip on Morgan's shoulders while making a wide gesture towards the sea before them. "Sail on until I can reach out and touch that endless horizon…"

The End


End file.
